


You're Mine

by ParadoxalPen



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Oblivious Rachel, Pining, Poor Rachel is confused with no idea what's happening, Possessive Quinn, Protective Quinn, Quinn knows what she wants and owns it, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Useless Lesbians, Wow I'm really going all in on these tags huh, like so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 97,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18881632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxalPen/pseuds/ParadoxalPen
Summary: Her eyes narrow further, and Quinn growls, low and husky. "I don't want a stupidboy, Berry."In which Quinn is sex on legs, and Rachel is confused (read: horny). Faberry rewrite of junior year with possessive/protective!Quinn, updates every Sunday.





	1. I. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Faberry – In which I take every Faberry date situation possible, mash them together with possessive/protective!Quinn, and manage to bash Finn, run through an actual plot, and still keep it somewhat T-rated at the same time.  
> Aiiii got this out just in time for Glee’s 10th anniversary – I’ve already gotten 28k done, so even with my finals slaughtering me during the next month I should be able to make do on my update schedule  
> Note: No Lucy storyline, will be updated every Sunday.
> 
> (25/11/19 Edit:) To new readers: The first few chapters are honestly a bit rough imo (or at least, don't match up to the quality of my other works) but I'm told it gets better as it goes on, so if you're up to it, please bear with me for a bit. Also update's gonna come out soon (probably), promise

**I.**

The first time it happens, Rachel is utterly confused.

And horny.

Like really horny.

Like really, _really_ , super-duper, I’m-hot-all-over and I’m going to hump anything horny.

(But that’s not the point, so hush.)

It’s the start of junior year, and Rachel’s at her locker, getting her books, because after all, even though no teacher actually teaches on the first day, it’s always good to be prepared, and Rachel Berry is nothing but prepared, PowerPoints and itineraries galore.

At the corner of her eye, she spots Finn lumbering his way down the hallway, and he shoots her a dopey grin when he sees her, crooked in his typical fashion.

Rachel cringes when she realizes that she used to swoon over that very face, and she discreetly tries to find a way out of the no-doubt going to be awkward conversation, glancing sideways to see if Kurt or Mercedes is nearby.

Feeling Finn’s large stature towering over her with no way to escape the enviable encounter, she turns to the giant with a tight smile, fighting off the immense urge to grimace. “Hello, Finn. How may I be of service?”

“Um, I was thinking,” he starts, scratching his head. “Later, we could, you know, go to Breadstix for dinner?”

This time, Rachel can’t resist the wince coming out. God knows she loves the boy, insensitive and moronic as he can be, but she isn’t and probably isn’t ever going to be _in_ love with him, and the idea that she would’ve dropped everything in a heartbeat to take him up on his offer a year ago sends an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

After regionals last year and with a clearer perspective on things, she had realized that rather, she was in love with the _idea_ of him, her perfect leading man. Of someone loving her unconditionally and taking care of her no matter her faults.

Finn evidently couldn’t be that someone, only ever seeming to want her whenever it was convenient for him. He could be sweet when he wanted to be and Rachel knows that he would make some girl happy someday, but it wouldn’t be her. Her dreams lie with the shining bright lights of Broadway, and Finn’s small-town dreams have no place in New York.

She’s about to turn him down, hopefully as painlessly as possible, when a familiar figure slides in between them.

Rachel’s stomach drops, and her heart beats a little bit quicker at the sight of red, white and black over a once-again lithe body and a perfectly immaculate blonde ponytail. Quinn Fabray is at the top of the pyramid again, it seems like, which does not bode well for the diva at all.

Truthfully, a part of her thinks that whatever retaliation the reinstated Cheerio has in store for her is well-deserved, what with all the things Rachel had done to her over the past year, but Quinn isn’t facing her, so she supposes that the blonde is playing the ignoring game.

Somehow, it actually hurts more than if she had thrown insults at her, because the Cheerio has been a lot of things to Rachel, but never _inattentive_ , and she’s a little bit ashamed of this part, but one of the only things that had kept Rachel from breaking down in the face of countless Slushies last year was the comfort in the fact that only she could draw evident emotion from the unflappable and ever-aloof Quinn Fabray during their confrontations. It felt like she held a part of the blonde that no one else had, and now it was being pried away from her.

Well, they’ll have to pry it from her cold dead body then.

She’s about to give the blonde a piece of her mind when _Finn_ of all people speaks first, “Look Quinn, I know you still like me, but I like Rachel now, so can you like, move over?”

Rachel can’t see Quinn’s reaction, but then the Cheerio lets out a low growl from her throat, before relaxing, and the shorter girl just _knows_ that Finn is going to get a severe tongue-lashing.

The blonde takes a few measured steps towards the boy, her perfectly white tennis shoes clacking against the floor. Somehow, Quinn still keeps her body poised in front of Rachel, effectively blocking Finn’s sight of her.

“Listen closely Finnsolence,” the blonde’s tone takes on a saccharine sweet hue, no louder than a whisper, as she leans in dangerously. “I’m going to say this _very_ carefully, because I know that your idiotic brain takes a centillion more years than others to process things. Rachel’s not interested, get it through your thick skull. So. Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Every word is enunciated in a way to deliver as much subtle intimidation as possible, sending a rush through Rachel and making her heart quicken for a very different reason, skipping a few beats.

Quinn’s shoulder muscles flex as she corners Finn, and Rachel finds her mouth getting dry and her throat reflexively swallowing at the sight, a pool of heat suddenly gathering in her lower belly.

Now that she’s not at the terrifyingly terrifying receiving side of Quinn’s wrath, and instead an onlooker, Rachel can’t deny that Quinn in HBIC mode is _hot_ , the diva hyperaware of every move the Cheerio makes. Even watching Quinn from the back makes her hot all over, and she can already imagine the taller girl’s flaring eyes and clenched jaw, having seen it too many times to count.

Finn visibly recoils, taking a step back, but then he regains some of his boldness and surges back forward again after a moment, a petulant frown on his face. Quinn is not impressed, and Rachel can just picture her raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Are we done here?”           

Seeming to understand that he wouldn’t be winning against Quinn, Finn turns his attentions to elsewhere with a poor imitation of a scowl. “Rachel wants to go out with me, don’t you Rach?”

Almost instantly, Quinn spins around to gauge the brunette’s reaction, making her Cheerio’s skirt fly up, and Rachel’s eyes trace the movement with fervor, darkening at smooth pale legs.

She doesn’t even notice she’s staring until she sees the wry smirk on Quinn’s face, and Rachel jerks her eyes away immediately, blushing like a tomato.

“Finn, while I do appreciate your gesture,” she says finally, and when the blonde’s eyes narrow and Finn starts to smile smugly, she rushes to explain, “I don’t think that we work well together, and I believe that it would be much more beneficial for us is we stayed as comrades.”

The giant boy frowns, the gears in his head slowly moving, and Rachel’s about to give him a little push, but Quinn beats her to it, albeit blunter than she would’ve liked to.

Hazel eyes still locked with hers, the blonde doesn’t even turn to look at Finn as she orders in her HBIC voice, “It means that she’s telling you to fuck off, Hudson.”

Finn scowls, and it’s clear that he’s not happy about it, but really, no one can go up against Quinn Fabray and come out on top, much less _Finn Hudson_ , so he storms away, with a look in his eyes that tells Rachel that he’s not giving up any time soon, and it makes her groan internally.

Meanwhile, Quinn is still staring at her eyes, as if she’s trying to figure something out, and without the distraction of Finn, Rachel suddenly feels self-conscious, and she darts her eyes away, unconsciously shrinking into herself.

“Eyes up, Berry,” the taller girl suddenly commands, snapping her fingers to force chestnut brown to meet hazel.

Rachel is breathless.

She’s always thought Quinn to be the prettiest girl she’s ever met, but before, she was only able to admire her from afar, and now that she’s face to face with the blonde girl, she seems even more stunning, every ridge and curve on her face toned to perfection.

Enraptured by the swirling pools of golden in Quinn’s blazing eyes, Rachel can’t bring herself to look away, absolutely captivated by how the cheerleader’s eyes light up with passion, beaming with life.

She really ought to break eye contact now, lest someone think that she’s being creepy as fuck, but she can’t.

Quinn studies her meticulously, and the brunette forces herself to meet her hot gaze evenly, even though her insides are probably mush at this point, and her heart is beating ferociously, not letting up no matter what.

Just when she thinks that her legs are going to give out from the blonde’s intense look-over, said blonde’s brow furrows, like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and she stands up straighter, before turning away without a word, skirt flying up at the same time.

Rachel’s left leaning against her locker, breaths heavy and blood pumping loud as she wonders what the fuck just happened.

And desperately in need of a cold shower.

_Very_ desperately.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

She doesn’t see Quinn until Glee comes around, and her mind is still restless at what had occurred earlier, her numerous theories driving herself crazy.

Quinn had never warned Finn off before, always choosing the petite diva as her target, but this time, she had channeled nearly all the HBIC she had to deal with the giant boy, and it was a relieving and startling surprise to Rachel all at once.

Like, what if the blonde’s planning to murder her, and this is the start of whatever plot she’s whipped up? What if Quinn got abducted and brainwashed, and now she’s going to take over the world? What if she got bitten by a vampire and-

It’s at that point when Rachel forces herself to stop overthinking everything, and she settles down on her usual seat at the first row, waiting for the others to trickle into the choir room.

Soon enough, Quinn enters, Santana and Brittany flanking her sides in their perfect Unholy Trinity fashion, and she doesn’t even look the diva’s way, simply walking to claim their seats at the back corner.

Rachel knows that she should be counting herself lucky that she didn’t get insults hurled in her face instead, but somehow, she feels almost… _disappointed_ that Quinn didn’t acknowledge her, and the feeling sits on her chest uncomfortably.

But it’s not long before she feels a familiar gaze piercing through the back of her head, and she tries to inconspicuously sneak a peak at Quinn, only to find her staring back with a perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirked.

Well, that certainly is a new development.

Before, during sophomore year, every time Rachel would catch the cheerleader looking at her, Quinn would quickly look away with a few choice derogatory words thrown, but now, the blonde meets her eyes steadily, unwavering in her heated gaze.

Rachel feels a slight shiver roll through her at the sight, and her throat suddenly feels parched, the room somehow hotter than it was before.

Thankfully, she’s saved by Mr. Schue coming in the choir room – late as always – and clapping his hands together excitedly as if that would motivate them, and she turns back around to face their teacher quickly, still feeling Quinn’s eyes burning through her head, and she fights not to let her goosebumps show.

Throughout Glee, the gaze never wavers far from her, and Rachel can admit that it makes her feel a little bit giddy, knowing that she has Quinn Fabray’s attention solely focused on her.

And maybe just a little bit terrified.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

When Glee finally ends, she breathes a sigh of relief and readies her song arrangements, waiting by the piano so that she can rehearse when everyone’s gone.

…Everyone except Quinn apparently, because even ten minutes after Mr. Schue had dismissed them, she’s still in her chair, looking at the brunette with an indecipherable expression.

Rachel can’t muster the courage to make an enquiry as to why the girl’s still here and not at Cheerio practice, so she only watches as Quinn slowly stands up, still with an unreadable look in her eyes, and she walks towards the singer with careful, measured steps, causing her heartbeat to spike with each one.

“Hello, Quinn,” Rachel finally brings herself to say, trying not to let her nervousness show. “Not to be rude, but why are you still in the choir room?”

It’s as if the Cheerio doesn’t register her words, because Quinn just takes another step closer, so close that their noses are almost touching, and she narrows her eyes a tiny bit.

“Are you dating Finn now?”

_Oh._

_So_ this _is what this is about._

Rachel can’t help but feel a slight upset in her stomach, though she has no idea why, and she swallows. “Quinn, if your unusual behavior is because you want Finn back, then by all means, you can have him. As I said earlier this morning, I have no interest in taking him back, so you can pursue him at your wishes.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say, because the next thing she knows, Quinn’s eyes narrow further, lighting up with _something_ , and she growls, low and husky. “I don’t want a stupid _boy_ , Berry.”

And with that, she turns away and leaves, the steps of her tennis shoes reverberating throughout the choir room.

Is this what Rachel’s diva storm-outs felt like? If so, she really needed to write a letter of apology to the Glee club.

But then again, there’s no way she can compare to Quinn’s ass swaying deviously, because _damn_ , that’s a-

Wait.

Straight thoughts, Rachel. Straight thoughts.

(She ignores the fact that she’s identified as bisexual her whole life.)

It’s not like the blonde beauty would ever want her anyway, even if she did say she didn’t want a boy-

Oh shit.

She’s screwed. Rachel’s so screwed.

(She wishes, actually.)

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Quinn doesn’t initiate contact with her again for a while, granting her a reprieve from the rollercoaster of emotions that come with their every encounter, and Rachel’s not sure what the sinking feeling in her chest is at that.

But whenever Finn would walk her way after Glee, the head Cheerio would shoot him a warning look, warding him off, and for that at least, Rachel’s grateful, even though she knows that she’ll have to shut him down completely eventually.

It’s not until next Tuesday, when she looks down at her Pre-Calc test and frowning at the big red C at the top right corner that she notices Quinn walking past, staring with her in interest.

Rachel waits for the inevitable verbal abuse to come, but it never does.

The Cheerio merely lets a small smirk appear, and continues on her way, hips swaying dangerously as usual.

Quinn hasn’t done anything to her ever since school started, but the singer still feels surprised when she doesn’t take perfectly good opportunities to take shots at her. Hell, the blonde’s even been _nice_ to her sometimes, smiling slightly at her in the hallways.

The first time she had done that, Rachel had looked behind her to see if she was just in the way of Quinn’s gaze, but there was no one.

The entire hallway had frozen in shock at the gesture as well, but the queen of Mckinley High didn’t react at all, simply moving along as the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea.

Rachel can’t contain her grin at the memory, but then she sees Sam, the new kid, looking Quinn’s way with a dreamy and wistful look on his face.

Rachel shoves the test in her locker as far as it will go, and slams it shut.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

It’s not like she doesn’t like this Sam guy.

It’s not like she doesn’t like his stupid haircut, and his goddamn trouty-mouth, and his fucking moon-eyes at-

Look, she’s perfectly fine with him, okay? Perfectly fine.

But when he walks into the choir room with his swagger walk that makes her irrationally want to punch him, shooting love-eyes at Quinn during the entirety of his introduction, she maybe snaps her pen by gripping it a little bit too hard.

(Or a whole fucking lot.)

She’s almost tempted to use her Glee captain rights to somehow veto him, but she knows that they need him, like it or not, so she crosses her arms and looks away with a huff, before raising her hand to sing a moving ballad about overcoming adversary that will definitely bring everyone to tears.

Quinn’s eyes never stray from her during her song, and she nearly forgets the lyrics, because _has the blonde always looked at her like that_ , with her eyes lighting up?

The honor-roll student focuses on her with a soft smile, head slowly swaying to the piano arrangement Brad is playing, and Rachel’s heart beats a few beats quicker, sending flutters to her stomach.

When Rachel belts out the last closing note, she resists the urge to scream “Ha, take that!” to Sam’s fucking face.

The ugly feeling in her stomach isn’t _jealousy_ , alright? Sam can go after Quinn if he wants to, she’s just…looking out for a friend, that’s all.

She’s determined to befriend the cheerleader this year, so naturally, the first step is to background-check said cheerleader’s potential love interests. A relationship between Quinn and Sam would practically be incestuous, like Barbie and Ken or something, so really, she’s just helping them along from a lawsuit in the far future.

Ignoring the weird feeling in her chest at the thought of Fabrevans – ugh, even their would-be ship name sounds bad – together, she pushes it away and instead directs her attention to Mr. Schue, plotting ways to convince the teacher not to wait till the last minute for once to prepare for sectionals.

She manages to get through the rest of Glee, though she frowns every time she spots Sam smiling at Quinn – you can’t judge her, it’s just that the image of them together is unappealing, okay?

Sam starts to walk in the blonde’s direction after Mr. Schue dismisses them, and Rachel can’t help her instant petulant scowl, resisting the urge to stomp her foot as she determinedly looks the other way.

The football player can do whatever the fuck he wants, and if he wants Quinn, then good for him, who wouldn’t really, she’s like the catch of the century, what with her delicious ass and-

Straight thoughts, dammit!

Look, bottom line is that Rachel _knows_ these things, and Fabrevans will never fit together, so she’s just doing them a favor by stopping their disgusting mating dance.

But when Quinn brushes Sam off to instead walk in the brunette’s direction, she can’t reach a decision on whether to feel fearful or triumphant.

Judging by the way she internally cheers at Sam’s puppy face as he leaves, and the way shes gulps at Quinn’s purposeful strides, it’s probably both.

The head Cheerio comes to a halt in front of her, and Rachel tries her very best to conjure up some false bravado. “Good day, Quinn. Is there anything you need?”

Of course, like usual, the taller girl doesn’t directly respond. Tilting her head a slight bit with a perplexed look in her eye that really shouldn’t be as cute as Rachel finds it, Quinn hums, a low purr from her throat.

“Friday after school. My place. I’m tutoring you in pre-calc.”

The blonde’s tone is to-the-point and blunt, and Rachel blinks twice, not quite processing the string of words that Quinn had said. “I’m…sorry?”

“Pay attention, Berry. You clearly need help with that ugly red C, so I’m offering it to you, Friday at my place,” Quinn drawls, sounding both intense and bored at the same time, hazel eyes boring into the singer’s with a gleam in them. “I’m taking AP Calculus BC this year, and I’ve kept Brittany on a B+ average in math, if you think I’m not up to it.”

“No, I- of course I don’t doubt your ability – you _are_ on the honor-roll, after all,” Rachel stammers her way through, mind reeling with thoughts. “I just- well, we’ve had a rather… _tremulous_ history, so forgive me if I’m quite skeptical of this being some sort of prank device to humiliate me once again.”

Softening, Quinn’s face twists in something akin to remorse, making the small brunette even more surprised, and Quinn sighs.

“Look Rachel, for what it’s worth, I- I _am_ sorry, for…for everything,” she speaks softly, meeting Rachel’s eyes with such sincerity that it almost knocks the diva off her feet. “I’m trying to be better this year, and I’m starting by attempting to make amends with you.”

Rachel doesn’t quite process the words for a moment, running through her head uselessly, but when she does, all the air leaves her lungs at once, leaving her breathless and enamored and weak at the knees, because this side of Quinn Fabray is one that she’s only caught a rare glimpse of, one that is genuine and _warm_ , and Rachel finds that she quite likes it, if not a bit scared at the same time.

“I- I’m sorry too,” she says when she feels like she can finally function again, still not believing that this is actually happening. Blinking once again, she tries her best to clear her head, intending on using this opportunity to get rid of the weight on her chest. “I shouldn’t have gone after Finn when he was your boyfriend, and I _definitely_ shouldn’t have told him about the baby’s true father so hastily in my convoluted attempt to win him over. I admire how you sucked it up and lived with _Noah_ afterwards though; your decision to move out certainly made things less awkward.”

For a second, Quinn looks heart-warmed and amused, but then her expression changes into one more conflicted, debating if she should say something. “Rachel,” she says, before wincing as if she’s bracing herself. “Finn kicked me out.”

The blonde’s eyes flick down as she says it, looking like she’s ashamed or embarrassed. Rachel notices the way that her shoulders almost imperceptibly hunch in, though it’s clear that Quinn is doing her hardest to put on a poker mask, her famed ice queen look.

The petite singer feels a pretty large range of emotions at once at the revelation.

Guilt for putting the taller girl in that position, anger at Finn, irrational disappointment that Quinn didn’t come to her for help, more anger at Finn, hurt _for_ the blonde, even more anger at Finn, and well, _anger at Finn_.

“He did _what_ now?”

Okay, maybe she can understand where he’s coming from, and she even sympathized with him for his grief and loss, but all that went out of the window once Quinn let that particular piece of information slip. The boy had every right to feel hurt and scorned, but to kick a _pregnant sixteen-year-old_ out?

Well, let’s just say that she had not just a few, but a whole diatribe of choice words to say to him.

Quinn doesn’t see the fury on her face, mistaking her scoff as shocked laughter, and she curls deeper into herself, staring at her tennis shoes. “At least he gave me an hour to pack,” she lets the corner of her mouth curl self-depreciatingly, before adding, more like an afterthought, “Russell only gave me half that time.”

Maybe it’s the way the blonde’s eyes hold a resigned look, as if she’s accepted the fact that she’ll never be wanted. Maybe it’s the way that she calls her father by his first name, but yet her voice cracks a little when she says it.

Either way, Rachel’s rage at _everything_ evaporates immediately, saved for another time, and it’s replaced by an ache in her heart. “Oh _Quinn_ ,” she breaths out, hands itching to reach out to the head cheerleader, to comfort her and to do _something_ to make her look less sad.

The brunette doesn’t apologize, knowing that Quinn won’t take it well, so she settles on restraining her tactile nature by gripping her sweater, and she continues gently, “You know I would’ve taken you in in a heartbeat, right?”

Quinn straightens, her face a blank mask now, and Rachel knows that her time is up, that she’ll have to slowly have the taller girl let her in one day at a time.

She almost sighs; finally getting a look into Quinn’s mind was all she’s wanted since freshman year, but now that she’s had a real glimpse of it, she’s starting to realize that it’s not all she had chalked it up to be.

Rachel had known that it would never be sunshine and rainbows under that cold and jagged exterior, but before, she had selfishly wanted to be _the one who had saved Quinn Fabray_ , like it was some kind of revered title.

Now, she’s beginning to think that she wants to care for the girl instead. Quinn doesn’t need saving, but Rachel still wants to give her a hand, because the blonde _matters_ , and she doesn’t have to do it alone all the time.

The singer tries to convey that message into her gaze, pouring her heart into her emotions, and it seems to work, to her great delight.

There’s a determined shift to Quinn’s eyes, and Rachel realizes that the cheerleader is _trying_ to let her walls down, to let the brunette _see_.

Her heart lifts in a pleasant flutter, and warmth spreads to her entire body.

Is this what it feels like? To be possibly _cherished_ by Quinn Fabray?

She feels floaty, as if she’s walking on air, and it warms her heart that Quinn deems her important enough to do this.

This isn’t the result of Rachel’s hard work of coaxing the Cheerio’s defenses down. This is simply the result of Quinn trying, with the diva just giving little pushes of encouragement along the way.

Rachel knows that she won’t be able to crack the blonde in a few weeks, or even _months_ , but she’ll keep trying. Quinn is beautiful and extraordinary and _worth it_ , so she’ll keep trying until one day, the blonde is able to share a part of her little world with her.

And if she gets the benefit of scoring Quinn as a friend, or dare she say it, _best_ friend, then that’s even better.

The taller girl seems to struggle at figuring out what to say, until she gingerly takes Rachel’s hand into her own and rubbing her thumb over the tanned skin. “I go to therapy,” she admits, “I won’t say that I’m fine – who is, honestly – but I’m…coming to terms with my issues, and Judy- _Mom_ , she’s…she’s really trying to make us an actual family.”

It’s clear that Quinn’s done for now though, as Rachel can feel the blonde’s hand slightly shaking in hers, but it’s more than she would’ve ever imagined getting, so the brunette exhales a light breath and shoots a proud smile at the Cheerio. “I’m glad,” she says and leaves it at that, before her smile turns bashful. “Quinn, if your offer still stands, I’d- I’d very much like it if you would tutor me.”

“Sure,” the blonde shakily replies, and her lips quirk up in a returning small but real smile. “I’ll drive us after Glee. See you tomorrow, Berry.”

When Quinn pulls away to shoulder her bag and leave, Rachel can’t quite deny the feeling of loss at the soft and weighty hand gone too soon.

She doesn’t know what to make of that.


	2. I. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Rach goes to Q's place to hang out and pure, unadulterated fluff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I really should just stick to my update schedule (it’s still every Sunday btw), but between Lea’s tweet about Unpretty/Pretty being her favorite mashup and Dianna following her again, my Faberry heart is beating with a fucking passion and so, here’s a chapter early, enjoy :)

Friday either comes way too soon, or not soon enough.

Rachel always ends up switching back and forth between the two, and she’s been frantically making PowerPoints left and right about the pros and cons of the situation.

Sometimes it depends on what looks she got in the hallway that day.

If a jock or Cheerio walked pass her with a sneer, it’d be the former.

But then, Quinn would smile her secret smile at her, and it’d be the latter.

At the end of the day though, her list would just look like this:

PRO: Quinn

CON: Quinn

She’d inevitably cross out the con before she goes to bed, because really, _Quinn_.

It’s probably concerning how much of her life that can be discerned from that one syllable.

Eh, no one gives a fuck.

 _Oh wait,_ Rachel thinks, _God probably would._

Huh.

Sorry, Jesus…but not really.

And as luck would have it, there’s no Cheerio practice after school on Friday, since it’s ‘Jean’s day’ for Sylvester, whatever that means.

Rachel has yet to decide if it’s good luck or bad.

With her heart beating way too quickly, she organizes her locker for the millionth time while reciting Barbra monologues to keep her mind occupied, hands shuffling around with nervous energy as she chants under her breath almost religiously.

“You okay there Superstar?”

The familiar husky alto comes out of nowhere, and Rachel jumps, her hand hitting the corner of her locker door in the process, drawing out a pained yelp. “Quinn!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the blonde apologetically smiles, “You okay?”

“Yup!” Rachel laughs anxiously, other hand rubbing the pink skin to nurse it. “Perfectly fine, a-okay, just great!”

“Need me to kiss it better?” Quinn smirks, voice dipping an octave while quirking her signature eyebrow, and combined with the nickname the head cheerleader had called her before, Rachel blushes furiously hard, holding her bag to her chest like a lifeline.

Thankfully, the taller girl takes pity on her, asking her if she’s ready to go instead of teasing her more, and when Rachel stumbles her way through her confirmation, Quinn grins, bright and wide, and takes her hand to lead them out of the school.

Rachel doesn’t know which is more ground-stopping: Quinn’s full-teeth smile or the fact that the blonde’s willing holding the school loser’s hand.

She decides that it’s the former when no one in the halls pay attention to their linked fingers, rather focusing on Quinn’s smile in all its electrifying entirety.

Really, who can blame them?

Quinn’s smile is full-blown, stretching across the porcelain expanse of her entire face, and the girl’s always been drop-dead gorgeous, no one can contest that, but she looks borderline _divine_ when she’s smiling, lighting up the hallway with its radiance.

Rachel’s pretty sure she hears someone faint at the sight, but there’s a chance that it’s her own heartbeat cutting off at the utterly striking visual, tugging at her heartstrings.

Everyone, and she means _everyone_ , boys and girls alike, is staring at the Ice Queen of Mcki- _no_ , she thinks.

They’re staring at _Quinn_ , the real Quinn, and no one is halfway prepared for it.

The blonde doesn’t seem to care though, just staring at her and Rachel’s interlocked hands as she walks them out to the parking lot, the singer trailing along and content to breathe in Quinn’s smile for as long as the cheerleader allows her to.

The voice in her head tells her that there’s most likely something to be learnt from by the implications of Quinn’s actions, but Rachel can’t concentrate or focus on anything at the moment, too taken by the blonde’s blinding beam.

It’s only till they reach the taller girl’s car and Quinn lets go of her hand, ear to ear grin easing into a lingering upturn of her lips that Rachel remembers her surroundings, only to be filled with fuzzy delight as she thanks the Cheerio for opening the car door for her.

Quinn’s complete one-eighty has her a little bit afraid that this is all just a dream, because there _has_ to be a catch somewhere, but for now, she’ll just let herself go with the flow and see where it takes her.

The blonde puts on a CD, and to Rachel’s pleasure, she learns that Quinn is an avid fan of Songheim’s work. The diva analyzes the chords and melody for the blonde while Quinn explains the lyrical techniques used, and it doesn’t take long for Rachel to grasp that the head Cheerio holds a passion for literature, eyes shining in a way that makes the brunette’s heart skip a few beats.

She pockets that little piece of information for later use, and she sings along to the songs with Quinn laughing.

She wonders when was the last time she felt this free.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

When they reach the Fabray mansion, Rachel’s jaw drops.

She had known that the Fabrays were loaded, but not _this_ much.

The house has to be one of the biggest in Lima, and the neighborhood it resides in is without a doubt the wealthiest, beautiful trees and garden spaces filling in the spaces.

Quinn sees her look and must mistake it as something else, because she grimaces. “Yeah, I know, it looks even more like a mausoleum from the inside,” she sighs, before unlocking the door with fucking _fingerprint_ technology. “Mom’s been trying to make it homier or whatever, but…it’s hard, adapting to a time where Russell wasn’t oppressing us all.”

Rachel’s pleasantly surprised by how much easier it seems for Quinn to speak about it compared to only a few days ago, and the blonde notices, explaining with a shrug as she leads them through the living room, “The shrink forced me to talk about it.”

“Your house is lovely, Quinn,” Rachel compliments, because it _is_ , just maybe more in the traditional way.

The taller girl snorts, somehow managing to make that sound graceful too. “It’s okay Berry, you can be honest and say that it’s a lifeless piece of dead real estate. Hell, I even encourage it.”

“Well, it is _kinda_ bleak with its color scheme,” the diva admits sheepishly, smiling at Quinn’s proud _there ya go_ look. “But I’m sure with the right amount of dedication, you and your mom and fix that right up.”

They walk up the stairs to Quinn’s room, and the honor-roll student stops at the doorway, before asking in an almost-shy tone, “Will you come and help?”

Rachel’s heart skips a few beats, and she feels a warm rush course through her body. “Quinn, I’m sure that you already know this about me,” she smiles, “But all you have to do is _ask_ , really, and I’ll be there.”

The taller girl sucks in a breath at her response, releasing it slowly, and Quinn lets a small smile rest on her face. “You’re something, Rachel Berry.”

Rachel simply beams at the blonde as they enter Quinn’s room.

The walls are painted a light blue color, with a queen-sized bed in the middle. There’s a three-piece mirror makeup station, a closet, and a study desk to the right, and a shelf filled to the brim with books covering almost the entirety of the left wall, just leaving some space for a door to a bathroom.

Everything is in pristine condition, neatly feathered and dusted, and if it weren’t for the stack of journals put messily on the study desk, Rachel would’ve thought the room to be brand new.

Nervously shuffling her weight between her feet, she stands at the doorway anxiously, not sure if she’s allowed to go in or not.

Quinn notices, and the blonde directs her to dump her bag in the corner, plopping down on her bed and spreading her limbs out like a starfish, causing Rachel to giggle, and the singer’s unease dissipates.

“It’s kinda boring, but I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s grown on me, I guess,” the taller girl says as she gets up, stretching with a groan.

Rachel’s traitorous eyes follow the smooth creamy sight of Quinn’s neck, and feeling a pool of heat gathering in her lower stomach at the sight, her thighs unconsciously clench together tightly in an attempt to contain her desires.

Dammit bisexuality, it’s fine if you don’t have straight thoughts, but having not-straight thoughts for _Quinn Fabray_ , the most unattainable girl in Lima?

Oh, she’s _so_ fucked over.

So completely and royally fucked over.

If Quinn notices her plight from her spot now at the desk, she doesn’t say anything, and instead, she expectantly pats the seat next to her while quickly moving the stack of journals out of the way, getting her notes out.

Rachel’s very tempted to ask about the clearly important journals, and she probably would have if she was in this position last year, but she isn’t, she’s grown and changed for the better, and that’s precisely why she doesn’t give in to her strong urge to snoop.

Quinn follows her line of sight, and when the Cheerio sees that Rachel won’t pry, she shoots her a grateful glance, biting her lip, and the brunette knows that she did well.

“I’ll tell you about them one day,” the taller girl promises.

Rachel’s breath catches. “Really?”

“I meant what I said Rach,” Quinn answers, meeting her eyes. “I’m finally trying to just be _myself_ , and the first step in that plan is to become friends with you.” Her voice slowly drifts off, before she adds timidly, “Well…if you’d still have me.”

A few things happen at once.

Most of them contain Rachel’s body functions failing.

And there’s also her Bisexuality alter ago screaming at her about…something. It’s probably important and imperative that she listen, but she’s too struck by Quinn’s utter sincerity, eyes expressive.

So yeah, Rachel Bi-rry can go suck it.

Mouth dry, she swallows, throat bobbing tightly. A small part of her wants dearly to ask what the next steps of the blonde’s plan are, the part of her that’s either masochistic or hopeful, she can’t decide yet, but all she can get out is an awed, “Quinn…”

The girl, fortunately, doesn’t take offence to her lack of response, even offering a small smile, and she drags the diva down to her seat. “Come on, I didn’t invite you over to slack off, Berry. Now tell me where your ass sucks at calc, and I’ll try my best to put something other than Streisand or thesauruses in your brain.”

Rachel blushes, a little bit embarrassed at her predicament at math – she’s a natural born-and-bred _singer_ , not a mathematician, for god’s sake!

She’s a little worried that Quinn will laugh at her and mock her, fears of the old HBIC coming back out rushing to the forefront of her mind, but the head cheerleader simply waits for her answer unwearyingly, and that gives her enough courage to push through.

It really isn’t surprising that Quinn’s a good tutor, what with her affinity for basically everything, but it still startles Rachel a tiny bit at exactly _how_ good she is.

Quinn is always patient when she doesn’t understand something, and the blonde doesn’t treat or speak to her condescendingly, even giving words of encouragement every once in a while.

The notes that the other girl had kept from middle-school are well-organized and much better than the ones her teacher had gave her, shorter too, and Rachel has a hard-time believing that Quinn had made these notes years ago.

She inwardly sighs – why do some people have all the good genes?

Pretty soon, two hours have passed and Rachel can safely say that she’ll probably score at least an A on the next quiz, though she’ll definitely need to ask if Quinn’s willing to help her again, the honor-roll student having successfully taught her more in a few hours than her teacher had in a week.

(And she maybe, probably, really wants to spend more time with Quinn, and this would be an adequate excuse, though she should think of sort of payment for the blonde; her patented cookies didn’t seem like enough, and if that payment could entail or result in them hanging out more, then all the better.)

She’s still in her PowerPoint mindset when her stomach growls, and she flushes at Quinn’s amused quirk of lips. The taller girl offers, “Wanna order take-out and watch a movie or two? I’d cook, but mom used all the ingredients yesterday and I didn’t have enough time to refill.”

“You cook?” Rachel asks after agreeing, trying to block out the domestic picture of the cheerleader doing just that, brain already short-circuiting because _oh fuck Quinn Fabray just asked me to eat dinner and watch movies with her is this what pure bliss is I’mdyinghelp_ \- actually no, death wouldn’t be so bad if she gets Quinn as company, even if she could never hear Barbra’s amazing voice again.

“I’d show you sometime if you’d like,” Quinn cuts into her thoughts, getting up to grab some clothes. Throwing a T-shirt and shorts towards the brunette before disappearing into her own bathroom, she directs, “On the other side of the hall, second door to the right.”

When Rachel looks into the mirror five minutes later, she’s still afraid to come out of the guest restroom.

First of all, _she’s fucking wearing Quinn Fabray’s clothes_ _whatthefuck_ and second of all, it’s slightly oversized, and the little insecure part of her is irrationally frightened that she looks like a dwarf, loudly proclaiming that she’s going to get a Slushie to the face as soon as she leaves the restroom.

“You okay in there?” Quinn’s voice rings out, causing her to jerk sideways.

She yells back an affirmative, drawing on her acting prowess so that she doesn’t sound shaky and scared, and she mumbles to herself, “Get it together, Rachel. Quinn’s been nothing but nice and accommodating the entire time you’ve been here, so go out there before she thinks you to be a bigger weirdo than you already are.”

She exhales a breath she doesn’t know that she’s been holding, and way too dramatically, slowly turns the door handle to be met with a sight that almost gives her whiplash.

If she thought Quinn Fabray in her Cheerio’s uniform looked stunning, then Quinn in casual attire with her hair let down is _ethereal_ , relaxed and free in a way that makes the diva’s heart quicken and chest expand with flutters.

“You look good in my clothes,” the blonde notes with a look in her eye that Rachel can’t quite decipher, and the singer thinks that she only imagines Quinn’s gaze lingering on her legs, but she still blushes, dipping her head bashfully.

Brushing a stray hair back into place behind her ear, the singer follows the other girl down to the living room, throw pillows and blankets already set up on the couch. “So, what are we watching?”

“You’ll see.” Quinn’s answering smirk causes some uneasy to settle in Rachel’s stomach, and she berates herself for not trusting the blonde more, forcing herself to relax on the couch. Quinn turns on the TV and adds, “Oh, and I’ve ordered already. Thai, if that’s okay, and vegan for you of course.”

That little gesture of thoughtfulness has Rachel’s breath lifting, warmth erupting from her chest to the very soles of her feet, and her stomach flutters with butterflies.

It’s utterly crushed by what she sees on screen.

The menu screen of _Pet Sematary_ staring back at her, she lets out an already-terrified whimper, and Quinn laughs, “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Quinn, I can’t deal with _horror movies_!” Rachel squeaks, curling into the couch.

“I’ll let you pick the next movie, and you can crush my hand or hide in my neck or whatever,” the honor-roll student bargains, “Please Rae?”

The brunette knows that she’s giving in the second she hears that she gets to touch Quinn (okay that didn’t sound creepy and pathetic at all), and she completely on-board when she hears the blonde call her Rae.

Not Rach, like everyone else does, but _Rae_.

It’s just a simple abbreviation of her name, but the fact that only _Quinn_ claims the right to that name makes her feel special, like she’s important enough that the cheerleader deems to call her something that only she will, and her chest flutters, light and airy.

She nods her assent, and warns as she moves closer to the other girl, “Just so you know, I’m even more touchy-feely when I’m scared, so don’t kill me if I end up on your lap.”

Quinn mumbles something under her breath, sounding suspiciously like “I’m counting on it”, but the singer dismisses the silly notion immediately, because – _really Rachel?_

Turns out, she does end up on the taller girl’s lap, not even half an hour in the movie, face completely hidden in Quinn’s pale shoulder and wincing every time she hears a resounding scream, jerking in place.

“I hate you I hate you I hate you,” she chants religiously in an attempt to block out the sickening sounds, “There is nothing good about this at all and I hope it haunts you in your sleep.”

Quinn chuckles, shifting on the couch to better accommodate the petite brunette, and Rachel is reminded that yes, there is something good to come out of this.

Mainly, the way that Quinn’s body presses deliciously into her own, curves meeting in all the right places, and how the head Cheerio’s hands are drifting up and down Rachel’s back in an attempt to soothe her nerves.

When the doorbell rings, she screeches and clings onto the blonde, arms wrapped around her waist tightly, and Quinn laughs, hand coming up to run through the shorter girl’s brown tresses. “I gotta go get dinner, Rae.”

She shakes her head, “I’m going with you. They’re going to get me if you leave, I don’t care.”

“Well you’re just being a tad dramatic,” Quinn smiles as she gets up with Rachel practically molded into her side. “We can switch the movie if you really want to.”

“Please,” the shorter girl practically begs.

Which is why ten minutes later, they’re watching _Inside Out_.

She would’ve gone with _Funny Girl_ , but she figured she needed the happiness of a Pixar movie, so she’s now curled up next to Quinn eating Pad Thai.

Feeling giddy that the Cheerio hadn’t said a thing when she continued to cuddle up to her, she chipperly munches on her food and ignores the voice in her head telling her that she’s totally going beyond her tactile nature in her actions, but Quinn is just too soft and comfortable for her to let go.

The taller girl hasn’t told her to, in Finn’s words, stop being so clingy, so she rationalizes that this must be how female friendships work, and that it’s perfectly fine for her to move even closer.

Quinn doesn’t seem to care, and Rachel’s very much starved for human contact and affection now that she’s single, so she decides that she’ll take what she gets, Quinn’s arms around her feeling warm and soft.

They’re around the part that Joy and Sadness go missing when the thought that watching movies with Quinn is completely different from watching them with Finn occurs to her.

Finn would always talk throughout a movie, not paying much attention if it’s not something about zombies or the like, causing Rachel to lose interest in the movie as she can’t really follow along, and even if he wouldn’t get bored and try to talk to her, their silence would almost never be comfortable, and the diva would feel the urge to fill the eerie quiet, only to be even more frustrated when the giant boy couldn’t carry the conversation other than talking about _Call of Duty_ , leaving her grasping for something to talk about desperately.

It’s nothing like that with Quinn.

The blonde would sardonically comment on the movie’s ‘movie logic’, laughing about it for a moment before moving on, their silence like a warm safety blanket, and when they take little breaks from the movie to get snacks, conversation always flows easily between them, coming to them like second nature.

Rachel really should delve deeper into why _this_ , whatever they’re doing, is so easy and light, their bantering beats in a perfect rhythm like they’ve been doing this for years, but the air around them is entirely too comfortable, causing a fuzzy warmth to envelop the brunette’s head, and she supposes that she shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Somewhere between the next hour, she starts to drift off into slumber – Quinn feels _really good_ , okay – and when she wakes to see blonde locks, she furrows her brow, not quite remembering why she’s there.

Then as she nuzzles closer against the soft surface her head is pressed against, she realizes her head is on Quinn’s _chest_ – or if she were to put it less eloquently, her _boobs_ – and in her panic, she ends up falling onto the floor, back hitting the thankfully carpeted floor.

She groans in pain, and the girl she was just sleeping on laughs lightly, “You alright there?”

“Perfectly fine,” Rachel embarrassedly calls from her spot on the floor, red from the neck up and hoping that the other girl hadn’t noticed her totally inappropriate coping of a feel, and when Quinn gets up to stretch with a grunt, the diva sheepishly cringes, heart still thumping in overdrive mode. “Sorry for cutting off your blood circulation.”

“’S okay,” the honor-roll student sleepily yawns, before checking her phone for the time. “Jesus, it’s ten already…Do you wanna call your one of your dads to pick you up?”

“Their car is being repaired until Wednesday, but I can just walk home, it’s just a few blocks,” Rachel answers, already grabbing her clothes from the loveseat.

Quinn frowns, before reaching for her Cheerio’s jacket. “No way, I’m driving you home.”

“It’s fine Quinn, you’ve already done me a huge favor by tutoring me today, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it,” the cheerleader cuts her off, “I’m driving you home, it’s a weekend anyway.”

Touched since Finn would never drive her home late during their short time together, she sends Quinn a tired but beaming smile, and the one she gets in return sends her head reeling, pleasantly airy.

When they’re changed and ready to go, she’s not prepared for the cold gust of wind hitting her skin, and she shivers.

Quinn notices, and without a word, she takes off her Cheerio jacket to help Rachel in it, and the brunette can’t help the bashful upturn of her lips. “Thank you.”

The blonde shrugs, a gleam appearing in her eyes. “I like you in my clothes.”

Rachel Bi-rry comes to voices out her concerns, but really, Quinn’s being all thoughtful and sweet, so she can just go fuck herself.

(She ferociously rejects the notion that she’ll probably do just that later. That would be inappropriate and highly irrespective, and she’d not be able to look Quinn in the eye for like, a century.)

They make idle chatter on the trip home, and she feels an odd sense of loss as she nears the Berry home, afraid that today was just all a dream and that she’ll go back to school tomorrow only to be met with a face full of Slushie.

She starts to dread the moment when this inevitably ends, and she tries to will the car to move slower, but it’s to no avail, and they reach the Berry driveway quickly, making her quietly sigh against the chilled September air.

Quinn gets out of the car first to open the door for her, the display of chivalrousness causing a light blush on the brunette’s face, and the honor-roll student walks her to her door. “I really liked hanging out with you today,” the blonde softly says, sporting a mysterious smile that made it seem like she was admitting something. “We could make it a weekly thing, if you want. Tutoring you is so much more fun than trying to pry Santana and Brittany away from each other, and…I could drive you to school and back home when your dads’ car is being prepared?”

Rachel gives herself an adequate time for processing of three seconds, and when can’t think of anything to say that can adequately convey what she wants, she settles for hugging the blonde fiercely, temporarily letting go of her fear of rejection as she crashes into safe and strong arms.

Quinn’s toned arms envelop her body tightly, and the brunette thinks that she probably shouldn’t linger too long, but it’s just too warm and comfortable, so she settles for holding on for as long as Quinn will allow, breathing in the blonde’s scent with contentment.

She thinks that at this rate, she’ll probably fall asleep again, surrounded by the cheerleader’s calming embrace, but then said cheerleader nudges her gently. “Just for clarification, that’s two yeses, right?”

Finding it in herself to pull away, if only slightly, Rachel is unable to keep the smile off her face, whispering in awe, “I can’t believe Quinn Fabray is a _dork_.”

“Don’t go ruining my rep, Rae,” the taller girl laughs, before gently pushing her towards the door. “Now go sleep, I’ll text you when I get home or whatever.”

Shocked that the blonde even knows her number, Rachel can only stare at her in bewilderment, and Quinn smiles, full and genuine. “Go to bed, Berry, or I’ll sic Santana on you.”

The diva mock-gasps scandalously, but then the moment dies down, and she feels the same sense of loss from before rush through her, as if this goodbye is meaning goodbye forever, the ever-looming fear of this just being a dream hanging over her head. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

But when she watches the honor-roll student’s car drive away, she’s still wearing Quinn’s Cheerio jacket, and Rachel can still smell the scent of vanilla and mango on it.

It’s proof that today wasn’t a figment of her imagination, and she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend thinks that the idea of Bi-rry is kinda creepy, but idk, I have so many jokes written based on that and it's kind of a running gag now in my already written chapters, so thoughts?


	3. II. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Karofsky and Azimio are idiots and we're here to reap the Faberry benefits ;)

**II.**

 

Quinn does text her when the blonde gets back home, and on Saturday, Rachel tries her best to keep off her phone, afraid that she’ll get too clingy and attached, but the second Quinn texts her again, they end up texting for hours, and all through Sunday too, their banter still coming to Rachel as one of the easiest things in her life.

They’d send each other cute cat pictures or memes or just anything, talking about everything from which Harry Potter house they’d be in – Rachel in Slytherin and Quinn in Ravenclaw – to talking about whatever annoying thing that their teacher did that they.

In none of their calls or texts did her fear of this just turning out to be a prank subside though, always lurking somewhere in the back of her brain, but even though Quinn’s thoughtful little goodnight texts and the like calms her raging insecurities somewhat, when Monday morning hits and she wakes at exactly 5:45 a.m. to Quinn’s text, she has a moment of terror, brain telling her that she’ll see something akin to _Ha manhands, why would you think that I’d ever want to be friends with a tranny like you?_

She almost wants to ignore the text completely, but she knows that her curiosity will get the best for her, so she picks up her phone dramatically, and opens the text, peeking though one eye as if that would change anything.

**Quinn:** _Morning Rae, I’ll pick you up at like 6:20, since I have Cheerio’s at 6:45. Is that okay?_

Rachel releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding and promptly feels silly, shooting back a reply with a sheepish smile.

**Rachel:** _That’s fine with me, thank you. I can work on extra-credit on the bleachers._

A brief moment of panic seizes her, because what if Quinn doesn’t want to be seen with her, but then she realizes that the blonde wouldn’t have asked otherwise, and she breathes a sigh.

At this rate, she’s going to grow gray hair very prematurely, between her internal freak-outs and Quinn’s heart-stopping smiles and gestures.

**Quinn:** _Sounds great, see you there._

Rachel smiles at the text, and she forces herself out of bed to freshen up and change into a sports bra so she can go onto her elliptical – socializing is no excuse for tardiness.

Another thing she especially lov- _likes_ about Quinn is that the Cheerio would avoid using text-speak with her since she knows that Rachel hates it, and it’s definitely a welcome departure from Finn’s horrendous text-messages, where she wouldn’t feel the immense urge to bleach her eyes.

And she’ll probably never admit it lest she be called a creep, but the fact that Quinn’s changing her entire form of text communication just for her has her giddy and fuzzy, a bubbling warmth bursting in her chest like fireworks.

Occupying herself with thoughts of how caring and considerate Quinn is, pretty soon, she’s dressed, eaten, and ready to go, and as she looks into the mirror with Quinn’s Cheerio letterman in hand, she feels the urge to wear it, the scent of vanilla drawing her in, but there’s no way the blonde would want her – the school loser – wearing it, so she puts it in her bag so she can return it later, unable to stop the fleeting disappointment that comes up, like she actually wants people to know that she’s Quinn’s.

Friend. Quinn’s _friend_.

There’s a little voice in her head snorting at that, probably her alter ego representing her bisexuality, but she wants to stay in denial-land a bit longer, so she pushes it back into her mind with a shake of her head.

When it’s around 6:20, she expects a horn-toot to tell her when Quinn’s there, like when Finn would drive her, but she’s pleasantly surprised when she gets a rung doorbell instead, and she happily chirps as she opens the door, “Good morning, Quinn!”

The other girl sleepily returns the greeting, an adorable crinkle in her face as the sun shines down particularly bright at them, and Rachel giggles at Quinn’s lack of enthusiasm for the early hours of daylight, yet another thing that she really shouldn’t find as endearing as it is.

As they get into the car – Rachel making sure to beat the other girl to opening the car-door for the other, not one to be outdone – Quinn asks off-handedly, “Why aren’t you wearing my jacket?”

“I thought that you wouldn’t want me to wear it,” Rachel shrugs, trying to keep the uncomfortable tilt to her voice at bay. “I’m, well, _me_ , and I’m sure you wouldn’t want the school to see me in your letterman.”

The blonde frowns, and she looks as if she wants to say something, but at the last moment, she shakes her head and puts on another CD instead, reversing out of the driveway.

Rachel feels a pang of disappointment hit her heart, but she shrugs it off – this is what she expected anyway. Quinn hasn’t asked for the jacket back either, and at the risk of sounding like a stalker, Rachel _really_ likes the smell of it, so until the cheerleader asks for it back, she’s hanging onto the thing like it’s a _Funny Girl_ playbill, signed by Barbra Streisand herself.

They get to school quickly, and she feels her heart start to beat quicker at the thought that she’ll be walking into school with _Quinn Fabray_ , but thankfully, most of the Cheerios aren’t there yet, so she settles onto the bleachers without much hassle, taking her extra-credit work out of her bag methodically to complete.

Soon enough, Quinn is leading cheerleading practice with fervor after finishing her stretches, a wide white smile in place as she stands on top of the pyramid, doing a front-flip down.

As she watches the Cheerios undergo an insane training regimen, doing push-ups and hand-springs, Rachel doesn’t know whether to be scared from; how dangerous this is, how crazy Sylvester is for making them do it, or how Quinn’s skirt flies up delectably.

It’s probably all three, but _damn_ , the way the head cheerleader’s legs flex as she runs laps around the other girls is downright sinful, and when Rachel looks down at her math work a few minutes later, a bunch of swirly lines greet her, and – is that _drool_?

This is how the next hour comes and goes, with her eyes glued to Quinn’s lithe form and completely unable to finish her extra-assignments, too enamored with the blonde’s backside to have a coherent thought.

She winces as she sees numerous girls puke and collapse after their practice is over, and as the others head to the showers, she thanks god that she had the sense to stay far away from Sue Sylvester and her bullhorn.

No wonder most of the Cheerios are so bitchy; Rachel would be too if she had to suffer through two of those practices almost every day. Seriously, why would anyone put themselves through that just for popularity?

But then again, this _is_ high school, where popularity is everything, and she _did_ chase after Finn blindly in an attempt for it, so she can’t really judge.

Quinn had agreed to meet her at the brunette’s locker after the cheerleader had finished showering, so she’s now currently rummaging for her books and trying her best to expel the tantalizing images of Quinn’s legs from her mind, reaching for textbooks that she probably doesn’t even have to use.

Until at the corner of her eye, she spots Karofsky and Azimio heading towards her with smirks and Slushies in hand.

Her heart drops, and a thousand thoughts rush to the forefront of her mind, none particularly good, and most of them nauseating.

Did Quinn plan and orchestrate this the whole time, her ultimate masterplan of humiliation? To give her a few days of unadulterated bliss, to let her feel what happiness is, and then take it all away in one fell swoop?

Rachel feels her eyes start to sting, but she refuses to cry. They don’t get to have that satisfaction.

As they walk even closer and closer, she exhales and accepts her fate – at least the time she got to spend with Quinn is in her opinion, one of the highlights of her short life, sad as that may sound, and even though the blonde will probably never talk to her again, she’ll have those memories with her.

“You’ve been spending an awful amount with Mckinley’s Queen,” Azimio starts, smiling crookedly, and it just makes Rachel’s stomach turn even more, bottoming out revoltingly.

“So,” Karofsky continues, the same taunting sneer on his face. “We’ve decided to teach you a lesson.” He raises his Slushie cup with a sardonic grin. “Because losers like you don’t get to mingle with royalty.”

The words don’t hurt as much as she thinks they should, because really, it’s true, and she hopes that they’ll make it quick, eyes already closing shut on reflex as her arms hug her books tightly to her chest in an attempt to save them, and she waits.

It never comes.

There are a few furiously loud steps ringing out from behind her, and then there’s the sound of Slushies being splashed, and then the shocked gasps of onlookers.

When a few seconds pass and Rachel doesn’t feel the cold sting of Slushy burning her, she tentatively opens her eyes, and her jaw gapes open at the sight that awaits her.

Quinn, with her hands at her hips in HBIC-mode and scowling murderously, and Karofsky and Azimio, covered from head to toe in Slushy.

“Wh-What?” the singer shakily questions, brain not quite processing the imagery that’s its being shown, and she looks to Quinn with wide eyes.

“Hold on Rae,” the head cheerleader moves in front of her to block her off from the two jocks, jaw set in a hard line. “I’m handling this.”

Rachel can only see one side of the blonde’s face from her position, but the absolute fury she sees on Quinn’s face is clear, and the diva feels bad immediately.

She had actually thought that Quinn betrayed her.

But the honor-roll student hadn’t.

She had _saved_ her.

Rachel doesn’t know how Quinn had managed to overturn the Slushies, but she has to admit, the looks on Karofsky and Azimio’s faces are priceless, looking flabbergasted and embarrassed, their red faces barely able to be made out from the cherry Slushy that they’re adorning.

“Quinn!” Karofsky angrily snarls, “What the fuck? We were just teaching Berry a lesson for you!”

“Yeah,” Azimio hurries to follow his teammate’s lead, “We’d thought that you’d like it!”

Quinn growls, low and threatening, and the two boys glance at each other with poorly-concealed nervousness as the air shifts into a stifling tranquil. “So boys,” Quinn smiles, sugary sweet. “When did you begin to know what I think?”

At this, they seem to think that they’re off the hook, and not unlike a bobble-head figure, Azimio nods his head like his life depends on it. (Judging by the look on Quinn’s face, it probably does.) “You’ve always hated her, and now that she’s clinging on you because she thinks she can do better than Hudson, so we thought that we’d scare her off for you!”

The head Cheerio narrows her eyes, and hazel pools light up with anger, before it’s channeled into cool disinterest, and that’s when Rachel _knows_ , for a lack of a better term, that shit’s going to go down.

The diva barely registers the presence of Santana and Brittany on the scene, standing to the side with the former scowling and rolling her eyes while the latter looks on with a knowing look, somehow akin to that of an excited puppy.

Quinn looks positively _bored_ as she regards the two burly jocks with a light and aloof face, and Rachel’s sixth sense starts pinging like crazy, the air buzzing and filled with a quiet dread. “Do I look like I care?”

“B-But Quinn!” Karofsky scrambles to plead his case, “She’s-She’s just a loser, and you-”

“Like you’re not a Lima Loser yourself,” The Head Cheerio’s intense glare silences him, and an almost sadistic smile shows on her face, HBIC posture in place and eyes hard. “So here’s what you two are going to do. First of all, you’re going to apologize to Rachel here.”

All attention moves to her, and she hugs her books closer to her chest under the scrutiny of all the onlookers, watching on with trepidation to see what the withering messes that are Karofsky and Azimio will do.

“Look Berry, I’m sorry, alright?” Azimio is the first to crack under Quinn’s glower. “We-We won’t bother you again!”

Karofsky stubbornly looks away, but when the blonde raises an threatening eyebrow at him, he reluctantly caves in, spiting, “Fine, we’re sorry.”

Quinn, utterly unsatisfied with their answers, moves to demand more, but Rachel stops her, not wanting to make even more of a scene even in her shock, and she gently says, “Quinn.”

The Cheerio looks as if she wants to enact more revenge on the two jocks, but the singer’s look has her begrudgingly accepting it, and she turns back to them with her glare back in place. “And second of all, you two are going to scurry off with your tails between your legs, and you’re never going to come near her again, got it?”

“Crystal!” Azimio squeaks, before they both scramble off, most likely to the nearest toilet to clean up, red-faced in shame and humiliation.

It seems almost surreal, looking at someone covered in Slushy that isn’t her, and Rachel is only shook out of her stupor when Quinn scowls. “You should’ve let me go harder on them; they don’t deserve your kindness.”

The singer is about to string together a response, but she’s stopped by Quinn turning to address the entire hallway, all looking at the blonde with frightened eyes as she barks, “Listen up Lima Losers! Rachel Berry is _off limits_! If any one of you even touches a _hair_ on her head, you’ll be dealing personally with _me_ , got that?”

A hushed whisper befalls upon the halls at once, and Rachel knows what’s happening.

They’re all wondering why _Quinn Fabray_ is suddenly protecting Rachel Berry, and they’re wondering what’s going to happen now, the natural hierarchy disrupted and flipped upside down.

A few brave – or stupid – souls look as if they’re about to protest, but a glare from Santana shuts them up quickly, and if anything, that just makes the whispers even louder, because now Santana is defending Rachel too – has the world gone upside down?

Rachel’s line of thought is already a jumbled mess, but it becomes even more frazzled as Quinn, still in HBIC mode, slightly demands, “Wear my letterman. No one will dare go near you if they see you wearing my stuff.”

It’s what prompts the singer to remember her earlier thoughts, and she immediately, she’s filled with an immense sense of shame and regret as people begin to clear out at the bell’s ring, unable to meet Quinn’s eyes.

The head cheerleader had done so much for her, being probably the nicest person ever to her beside from her dads, but at the first sign of trouble, Rachel had gone and blamed the blonde first, distrusting her even though she’s been nothing but sweet and thoughtful these few days.

Her first reaction was to discredit Quinn, and in return, the honor-roll student had saved her from the school’s two biggest bullies and put a Slushie moratorium on her, declaring her off limits.

She feels like the biggest jerk ever, and she tries to will a hole to swallow her into the ground, looking at her Mary Janes in shame.

It’s evident that her guilt shows on her face, because the next thing she knows, Quinn’s face falls, mask beginning to slip on as her face turns detached, deducing, “You thought that I had planned to get you at your locker so the two dimwits could Slushy you.”

Rachel panics, and she desperately wants to assure the distraught blonde that she didn’t think that, but she _had_ , and the way that she can feel Quinn’s walls bursting up just adds to the piling up guilt building up in her chest.

“I’m sorry, I really _do_ want to trust you,” she whispers, already berating herself for the loss of this amazing friendship – because there’s no way the blonde will want to be her friend now – and she continues miserably, “I understand if you don’t want me to be your friend anymore.”

“What? No!” The cheerleader shakes her head firmly, as if the very idea is absurd to her, and a sliver of hope ignites in Rachel’s chest. “No, you shouldn’t have to apologize; you haven’t done anything wrong. I know that years of torment can’t be erased, so I’m going to try my damn hardest to create some better memories for you instead, and I’ll hope that with time, I’ll be able to earn your forgiveness. Really, it’s me that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

Great, now Rachel feels even more of an asshole.

Why’d Quinn have to go ahead and be even sweeter than before?

“But you’ve been such an amazing friend to me,” she expresses, “You tutored me, offered to drive me to school, you even stopped the slushies for me and I can’t begin to-”

Santana, who’s been silently watching from the side even after Brittany had left, rolls her eyes as she slides into their conversation, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Look lovebirds, either you finish your monologues and get to the good stuff and fuck, or you stop eye-sexing and actually get to class, this is getting boring fast, and I need to talk to Q.”

Rachel instantly blushes the color of a tomato, but she ignores Santana, shyly asking Quinn, “Can I still wear your jacket?”

“It’s yours,” the blonde shrugs, though there’s also a hint of pink in her cheeks, and it makes Rachel heart skip faster, swelling with _something_.

It feels like she’s being claimed, and the thought gives her a head rush. When Finn would try to tell her to wear his jacket, it felt barbaric and like she was a possession of a whiney kid, but the way Quinn helps her to wear it makes her feel _desirable_ , like she belongs, and she finds that she quite likes the idea of being Quinn’s…friend.

“So…are we okay?” she gingerly asks, playing with the hem of the letterman like she can’t quite believe that she’s being allowed to wear it.”

Quinn smiles at her, small but bright. “We’re okay.”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, and Rachel gets the feeling that something’s happening, something _more_ , but of course Santana has to cut in, an impatient growl coming from the Cheerios’ second-in-command.

“That’s it!” the Latina finally snaps, rolling her eyes as she drags Quinn away by the arm. “Imma do things my way now, I don’t give a fuck about whatever plan Q-Tip has.”

Rachel totally doesn’t try to eavesdrop on their conversation, because that would be rude and inappropriate.

(She very much does, and fails.)

It’s not her fault that she’s highly inquisitive, alright? She doesn’t hear much anyway, only able to read a few words from Santana’s mouth, the conversation seemingly one-sided.

There is ‘what happened’, ‘slow’, and ‘coming on’, but other than that and some Spanish curse words, she isn’t able to lip-read anything, and she internally scolds herself for being so nosy, determinately looking away but still unable to resist taking a peek or two.

After a few minutes, Quinn flips Santana off, and Rachel giggles, causing their attention to float back to her.

Narrowing her eyes, Santana mutters one last curse word under her breath, and she storms off in the opposite direction of her class, most likely to rendezvous with Brittany in a janitor’s closet somewhere.

“What was that about?” the shorter brunette asks once the Latina is out of earshot.

Quinn nonchalantly waves her off, saying something about ‘damage control’, before she offers, “Want me to walk you to class?”

“But I want to,” Rachel frowns, before her brain starts to whip up a favorable plan, and she starts to smile. “What about you walk me to class on Monday and Wednesday, I’ll walk you on Tuesday and Thursdays, and we alternate Fridays?”

“I feel like we’re sharing custody of something, but sure,” Quinn agrees, a soft smile in place. “Now come on, I can intimidate whatever teacher you have for first period so you won’t get told off for being late.”

At this, Rachel pales immediately, and she starts to hurry to her class’ direction, berating, “Why didn’t you tell me it’s this late, I’m going to lose my perfect attendance!”

Laughing, Quinn chases after her and puts a hand on her arm to get her to slow down. “Rae, it’ll be fine; I’ve been skipping classes for years and I still have a perfect attendance since the teachers are cowards.”

The diva slows to a halt. “Oh, then why didn’t you tell me in the first place?” she asks, before she realizes something and her eyes narrow. “Quinn Fabray why have you been skipping classes?”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

She’s fairly able to ignore the stares and whispers throughout the next few periods, already used to them, and she’s heading to fourth period when an arm grabs her into an empty classroom out of nowhere, and her scream is barely contained by Santana’s glare.

“Santana, _what_ exactly are you doing!” she whisper-screeches, slowly creeping towards the door and her escape as she looks upon the girl with trepidation.

The Latina rolls her eyes, moving to block her way. “Look midget, here’s how this is going to go,” she intones, arms crossed over her chest and looking mildly uncomfortable. “You hurt Quinn, I hurt you. You make her cry or whatever, and I tear out your vocal cords. Make her happy? Then maybe I won’t do all of the above when you annoy me. Got me?”

At a loss at what to say – she’s pretty sure Santana Lopez had just given her version of _the talk_ , Rachel just nods dumbly, and if she thinks that things are already a complete one-eighty today, she’s even more surprised (read: terrified) to see the cheerleader’s slight upturn of lips.

“Good,” Santana nods, before she bites her lip and looks away slightly, as if it’s almost painful to say her next words. “Now since that Q’s chosen you, for a reason that I still don’t get – because really, those legs can’t possibly be _that_ good – that means that I’m obligated by some sort of Buffy code to watch your back, so if someone’s giving you a hard time or whatever…I’ll beat them up for you.”

When the words finally settle, Rachel gapes at the Latina, and now that she’s seen her soft, usually Brittany-reserved side, she can’t resist teasing, “Aww, you do care.”

Santana scowls murderously in response, and she shakes her head. “You’re _so_ lucky Quinn likes you.”

At that, the shorter brunette’s breath catches and she feels her heart attempt to beat out of her chest. “You-You mean that she likes me as a _friend_ , right?” she asks for clarification, eyes wide.

Santana barks out a laugh. “Yeah no, I’m not getting into your L Word drama, so skedaddle hobbit, your argyle-Cheerio jacket combo is blinding my eyes.”

Even though her slight panic, Rachel bites back a grin. “I think that that was the tamest insult you’ve used on me since middle school.”

Narrowing her eyes again, Santana growls as she walks out the door. “I swear, do you actually _want_ me to hurt you?” she rolls her eyes, before pausing, “On a second thought, don’t answer that, I don’t need to know about your kinky fetishes.”

_Ah,_ there’s _the snarky Cheerio I know,_ Rachel giddily thinks, but she can’t contain her grin even as the door slams shut in her face.

Is she scared shitless of Santana’s threat? Definitely.

But is she even happier that she pretty much now has the Unholy Trinity on her side?

Hell yes, and it’s all thanks to Quinn.

She’ll probably fuss over and drive herself crazy over what Santana had implied earlier during their conversation, but right now, she’s content to march off to class, feeling on top of the world.


	4. II. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Rachel starts getting somewhere out of denial land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be a 6k beast, so look out for that :)  
> Special thanks to all those who reviewed, and happy Pride Month, everybody!

When it finally rolls around to lunch and Rachel goes to her locker to retrieve her (berry nutritious) vegan salad as always, she spots a note placed on the top of her books, and she instantly feels a sense of giddiness envelop her, knowing that it has to be Quinn.

Picking up the folded note that has a sparkling gold star on top – oof, that’s her heart swooning like crazy, _help_ – with a languid yet enthusiastic pace that can only come out of a romantic comedy, she opens the note with tingles through her fingers, biting down at her lip gently in nervous anticipation.

_I’m having lunch in the auditorium. Join me?_

_-Q_

The neat and pretty sight of Quinn’s slight cursive consumes the brunette with abandon, the simple words somehow able to cause little bursts of fireworks to rage behind her eyelids, and Rachel holds the note to her chest as if she’s cradling it, a bashful smile appearing on her lips as she internally does a little twirl of happiness.

The voice in her head is screaming at her to listen, but she’s too enamored by the note to even remotely care. Quinn Fabray wants to eat lunch with her!

There’s a very noticeable skip and chipper to her step as she goes to the auditorium to meet Quinn, and Bi-rry calls for her attention to no avail.

 _So much for being self-aware,_ Rachel feels the voice grumble in her mind, but the petite singer ignores the definite shift in her heart that tells her this is going to end badly, because there’s no way she’s going to unpack _that_ today.

Or probably the next ten years or so.

All her raging thoughts cease to a halt when she catches a glimpse of Quinn as she reaches the auditorium, the blonde sending her a smile at her arrival that has her stomach doing somersaults. “Hey Rae.”

“Hello Quinn,” she greets back with a beaming grin of her own as she places her lunch on the chair next to the cheerleader. “I trust the day has been better to you.”

The honor-roll student smirks, dangerous and thrilling. “Better now that you’re here.”

Her heart palpitates, and she’s unable to hide her fond smile as she complains, “I must applaud your idea of comedy, but do you _have_ to use such a corny line?”

“I’ll try harder to be smoother next time,” Quinn promises with a crinkle in her eyes that tells the brunette that she’s trying hard not to laugh. “You can come feel me up to see just _how_ smooth.”

“Quinn!” Rachel, cheeks flushed in pink, swats at the cheerleader’s arm, who’s now waggling her eyebrows at her absurdly in an obvious imitation of Puck. “That was horrible!”

“What?” the taller girl laughs, before bringing up her arm to flex it, the muscles rippling. “There’s no way you can look at these and not say that they’re awesome.”

Rolling her eyes and totally not resisting the strong urge to take Quinn up on her offer to touch, Rachel forces her eyes to dart away from the taunt muscles of the blonde’s biceps, and she huffs, hoping to distract herself. “I’ll have you know that I do not find arrogance to be appealing, Quinn Fabray!”

“This is confidence, Berry, and don’t pretend like you don’t totally get off of it,” Quinn smirks even wider, and Rachel feels the inferno in her lower stomach fan hotter, to an almost unbearable degree. “What, you tired?”

“Of your lame pick-up lines?” the singer tries to sound indifferent (and most likely fails). “Yes, very much, and I’d appreciate if you’d cease and desist this right this instant!”

Or she’ll most likely jump the blonde.

Actually, scratch that, at the rate Quinn’s hotness bar is raising like a fucking skyscraper, Rachel will probably end up jumping her regardless, but that tidbit is swiftly ignored and compartmentalized as Quinn continues, “Well that’s not a surprise – you’ve been running amok my mind all day!”

Rachel groans, exaggerated and playful, and she gets out of her seat to pretend to leave, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting.

Chuckling, Quinn grabs her by the waist and tugs down with a strength that only a Cheerio can possess, and within a beat, Rachel is half on top of Quinn’s lap, stuck in place.

With her line of sight directly level with the girl’s chest.

Her face quickly reddens with a mortified look, and Quinn laughs lightly, breathy and amused. “Hi there.”

Rachel desperately tries to get her throat muscles to work, but all that comes out is a few croaks and whimpers of embarrassment as she squirms lightly – which, really isn’t making anything better – because she’s paralyzed on Quinn Fabray’s lap, and _ohmyfuck I’m paralyzed on Quinn’s lap look at those boobs they’re-_

Her brain short-circuits somewhere around lap and she practically drools at boobs, her mindset regressing to a mix of Puck and Jacob Ben Israel in two seconds at the thought of Quinn’s…assets.

Look, it’s not her fault she can properly appreciate the female form, okay? Teenage urges and other… _things_ are perfectly normal, and any sane person who likes girls even a little bit can’t deny that the honor-roll student is the epitome of every wet dream ever, so she can’t be faulted for being hot for Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray and her perfectly arched eyebrow, and her husky voice, and her smirkity smirky smirk, and-

She reverts to teenage-boy mode again.

“I think I broke you.” Quinn’s amused voice rings out, and Rachel jerks away and falls to the ground, squeaking.

Only to be met with the utterly mouthwatering sight of smooth pale legs.

God is really testing her, isn’t he?

Well too bad, she’s going to hell then, because _damn_ , look at those legs, and is she actually going to hell, because is it just her, or is it getting hotter and hotter?

“Yeah, I broke you, didn’t I?” Quinn arches her brow.

Red from her neck, Rachel manages to croak out a horrified, “Pretty much.”

The taller girl hums her quiet laughter and grabs the diva’s hand to pull her up, making Rachel heat up even more at the contact. “Eat your boring salad food, Berry.”

Maybe if this were a few days ago, she would’ve taken it as an insult, but she feels relaxed instead now, as if she’s been friends with Quinn for ages, and still red in the face, she’s comfortable in bantering back, “Better than your pig corpse, at least.”

The blonde mock-glares at her, pulling out a wrapped sandwich as she huffs, “And to think that I made a vegan sandwich just for you! Really, I should just stuff it with real bacon instead and eat it myself, you-”

Rachel makes a grab for the sandwich, gets tripped over, and ends up in Quinn’s lap again.

This is going to be a _loooong_ lunch.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

“Wait, Quinn Fabray did _what_?”

“Shhhh,” Rachel frantically shushes Kurt, looking around their sixth period classroom anxiously.

“Don’t hush me, woman!” Rolling his eyes, Kurt’s eyes gleam eagerly in his typical gossip queen fashion, and he leans in closer with a hungry scheming look. “First she defends you against Karofsky, and now she’s saved up the best seats for tomorrow’s football game just for you to watch her cheer? I just _need_ to hear all the juicy deets!”

Somewhat reluctantly, Rachel gives in, and she spills all that’s happened since school started, and the boy seems to get more and more interested with every detail revealed, almost bouncing with excitement by the end when Rachel finishes.

“This is like watching a teen drama unfold right before my eyes,” he practically squeals as his face dawns with a realization. “Quinn Fabray makes _so much more_ sense now.”

“What?” Rachel asks, brow furrowed as she tries to work out what Kurt’s saying.

If anything, Quinn’s _so much more_ baffling these days, and when Kurt sees that she’s genuinely confused, he shakes his head in disbelief, “Oh you poor baby.”

“No seriously, what?” the brunette repeats in confusion, the words coming out more like a whine this time.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to figure this one out yourself, Rach,” Kurt offers her a sympathetic smile as he changes gears, “So are you going or not?”

“Of course I am, it’s just that, well…” she trails off, a small blush making its way across her neck. “Quinn said she saved two seats, and I’m kind of afraid to go to a football game alone, so-”

“You want me to be your fairy godfather,” the boy sitting next to her deduces.

Rachel smiles sheepishly as she bargains, “There’s going to be lots of sweaty boys running around.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, but that _does_ make it sound even better,” Kurt chuckles, before he lets his face set in a more serious manner. “Promise me you’ll look out for yourself. Not like when you let my moronic soon-to-be step-brother step all over you.”

The petite singer swallows, throat suddenly dry, “I don’t understand, what-”

“Just…don’t let your heart overrule your head, Rachel,” Kurt evenly says. “You have a…tendency to feel too much too fast.”

“Isn’t that what love is supposed feel like?”

“Wait, you’re _in_ _love_ with Quinn Fabray?” the flamboyant countertenor gapes at her, and she goes red in the face immediately.

“N-No, I’m not!” Rachel splutters in response, “I was just referring to love as how I believed it to be, and-”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt evidently decides to switch tactics, and rephrases, “So do you like her?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” the diva puzzles. “She’s kind, sweet, thoughtful, and the most wonderful friend to me – I’m sorry Kurt, but she made me a four-layered vegan sandwich with vegan bacon! _Vegan bacon_ , Kurt!”

The pompous boy, for his part, only looks upon her with an expression akin to amused fondness, though Rachel’s still faintly reminded of a bird with ruffled feathers. “While I’m a bit miffed that I’ve apparently been replaced, and due to a pretend-pig no less, that’s not what I meant,” he clarifies. “I meant to ask if you like _like_ her, in a more than platonic way.”

Rachel feels her face heat, and she hides herself in her textbook. “What, of course I don’t _like_ her!” she hisses, unable to stop the rising flush spreading across her face. “Actually, I kind of do, because she’s endeared herself to me rather quickly these few days, but it’s completely platonic, like how I love the Glee club, and I don’t harbor any romantic feelings towards her, okay? She’s just a dear friend to me and it would be awkward if I liked her, considering that I’ve just settled things with Finn, and I’m offended that you would even ask that!”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Kurt sings haughtily, and when Rachel protests, he simply gives her an unimpressed look. “Picture her in the tightest tank top and booty shorts you can imagine.”

At his words, she can’t stop the assortment of mental images that flood her brain, and the absolute delectable picture of a barely-clothed Quinn Fabray with hooded eyes and a confident smirk sends intense pangs of desire from her lower belly to her wetness, and she presses her thighs tightly together unconsciously in an attempt to bring some relief to her suddenly aching core, the images igniting a flame in her that spreads across her entire body.

“Something you wanna share with the rest of us, Rach?” Kurt raises his brow, and Rachel thinks that Quinn does it much better, her brain conjuring up that perfect arched eyebrow as the cheerleader whispers dirty things in her ear, nipping at her earlobe and tugging sensually – fuck, now her panties are ruined, soaked and practically _dripping_.

“Okay, so maybe she turns me on a little…or a hell lot,” she admits, heat radiating off her in waves from both arousal and embarrassment. “But she’s _Quinn Fabray_ , who wouldn’t be physically attracted to her?”

“I’ll give you that at least,” the porcelain-skinned boy agrees, “I’m probably the gayest stereotype ever and I’d _still_ go straight for her.”

“Plus, it’s not like she’d ever reciprocate if I did end up having feelings for her,” Rachel shrugs quietly.

“Her best friends are Brittany and Santana, maybe she’ll surprise you,” Kurt answers with a soft lift to his voice, and when Rachel gives him a doubtful look, he looks as if he desperately wants to add something, but then he shakes his head and says instead with a small smile, “Anyways, what do you think is the appropriate attire for football-going?”

That just sets her off even more, because _oh god what is she going to wear_ , and more importantly, how the hell can one possibly impress Quinn Fabray?

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

It’s not even a few minutes into the game, and even with her mediocre knowledge of football, Rachel can already tell that their team sucks.

She doesn’t really have any idea what’s going on, but Kurt is shouting demeaning things along with the crowd, and she’s pretty sure that Finn shouldn’t be crushed under two guys already, so she sighs and pats down the wrinkles in her black dress.

At least Kurt had helped her to find something that he said made her look really good, so that’s that, as it’s probably one of the only dresses in her closet that isn’t argyle or plaid.

She doesn’t really have an interest in football, and she never did understand what Finn had told her, but she makes do by making conversation with Kurt, and pretty soon, it’s half-time.

The crowd suddenly goes silent, as if they’re all awaiting the Cheerios to run out onto the pitch with anticipation, and it’s clear to Rachel that most of them are just here to see them, because the second Quinn bolts out leading her squad with a pearly grin, the entire stand roars with cheers and hoots.

Girls start doing backflips and handsprings, skirts flying up as they twirl in perfect sync, but Rachel only has eyes for Quinn, and she barely registers the others as they hoist her up.

There’s an underlying current of fear rushing through her while watching the blonde do death-defying stunts, but it’s overshadowed by her eyes rapidly honing in on Quinn’s every move, moving with such grace and fluidness that it leaves Rachel breathless and her mouth dry, enamored by the display.

Quinn is _flexible_ , bending down and doing god knows what with practiced ease, and the brunette feels the inferno in her stomach start to fan hotter and hotter, the heat spreading towards her entire body and settling like a second layer of skin.

Just when she thinks that she can’t possibly get more turned on, Quinn, now at the top of the pyramid for the grand finale, gets boosted up into the air, and terror that the head Cheerio is going to fall envelopes Rachel.

Until Quinn’s thighs part into a perfect spilt, creamy skin all on display, and the singer feels herself clench, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat so hard that they turn white in an attempt to stop herself from rubbing her thighs to cause some friction. _Sky Splits indeed._

The honor-roll student’s MySpace name holds a whole other meaning to her now, with a visual going with it to boot, and Rachel barely stops herself from letting out a choked noise at recalling Quinn’s legs parting and her Cheerio’s skirt barely covering the red spanks underneath.

“Holy shit,” Kurt breathes next to her, “Now I kinda wish that I was straight.”

Rachel doesn’t reply, knowing that if she tried, all that would come out would be a few strangled croaks, and her brain barely functions enough to stop her from drooling a puddle.

Abruptly, she’s regretting not coming to Mckinley’s other games, because who knows how much she missed, but then, she thinks of how many have already watched that very scene of Quinn being tossed into the air, and she growls, jealousy rushing at her out of nowhere at every direction.

She doesn’t bother to provide the excuse that she’s just ‘looking out for a friend’.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

The rest of the game slowly passes by, with every second just heightening her pent-up feelings, and when it finally ends with them inevitably losing, she tells Kurt not to wait for her and marches to the Cheerios’ locker room, her gut urging her to find and see Quinn.

When she opens the door, she’s met with the horrendous sight of Santana and Brittany making out like no tomorrow, with the former barely clothed and the latter not wearing anything at all, and thankfully, their lewd noises are blocked out by the running showers a few rows behind them.

Yelping, she covers her eyes to block out their indecency, which draws their attention to her, and Santana groans, “What are you doing here, hobbit?”

“I bet she’s here because she saw Q do her totally sexy splits, and she wants to be a bicorn too,” Brittany pipes up, and when Rachel chances a glance through her fingers, she breathes a sigh of relief that the ditzy blonde had used a towel to cover herself up for now, not really listening to what Brittany had said.

Dropping her hand down, the diva opens her mouth to respond, but then Santana cuts her off, yelling further into the locker room, “Hey Immaculate Conception, the prude’s here for you!”

With that, the Latina drags her girlfriend (everyone knows at this point, really) by the hand to the direction of the shower stalls where Rachel assumes that all the other cheerleaders are, and she shivers to clear the image of what she had walked in on earlier.

“Hey,” a voice sounds from her other side, and the singer only just contains her nerves by sharply inhaling, skin lit aflame by the steam coating the atmosphere of the locker room.

“Hi Quinn,” she says right as she turns to see the blonde, and she’s very much not prepared for the sight that greets her.

Quinn Fabray, in only her red bra and Cheerio’s skirt.

Rachel’s eyes rake across the cheerleader’s form without prompting, and the diva’s nipples harden and strain against the suddenly constraining material of her bra at smooth, hard abs and small, perky breasts, her fingers itching to reach out and _touch_ , to run over muscles and feel them flex.

“My eyes are up here Berry,” Quinn smirks, tone teasing, and Rachel flushes in embarrassment, stuttering out apologies as she darts her eyes away.

“I- I um, I wanted to tell you how good you looked out there,” she manages, and at how weak it had sounded, she cringes, eyes still resolutely concentrated on the red locker right in her peripheral.

Quinn hums in response, lips rubbing together, and slowly strides towards her in measured, careful steps, and Rachel is reminded of a feline stalking its prey, confident and assured.

The blonde’s abs flex as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and Rachel finds herself dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, throat unbelievably parched as she backs a step, her back meeting the cold metal of a locker, causing her to release a soft hiss at the contact with her enflamed body.

“I could give you a private performance, if you wanted,” Quinn tempts with a lazy drone, leaning in closer and closer, so close that she’s whispering in the brunette’s ear, and with one final step, their bodies are fit snug together, pressing against each other in all the right places.

Feeling the cheerleader’s bare stomach through the thin material of her dress, hard abs pressing against her, Rachel rasps in a breath, both mind and body overclocked as she’s assaulted by all the electricity buzzing through the air, and she whirls to life at the sensations.

Quinn arches her brow, and in a quiet yet commanding purr, drawls, “I’m waiting, Berry.”

It sends pleasant rolls of shivers up the diva’s spine, and out of breath, she closes her eyes with a silent gasp, Quinn’s hot pants still against her ear.

She’s clenching hard, so wet she’s afraid that the blonde can smell her arousal, and she so desperately wants to rub her thighs together or jerk her hips to cause some friction, _anything_ , but Quinn is _right there_ , leg between hers, and Rachel knows that if she even moves a little, the cheerleader will feel it, and even worse, the singer’s not sure if she can bring herself to stop if she does.

An almost pitiful whimper makes itself out of her throat, and Quinn takes mercy on her, a low chuckle filling the brunette’s ears. “Don’t worry, I’ve already saved you a dance,” she sends another smirk Rachel’s way, before letting her eyes drag across the petite girl’s frame. “Nice dress by the way.”

And with that said and done, Quinn doesn’t wait for a reply and pulls back swiftly, zips her skirt down, and lets it fall to the floor, revealing the red spanks underneath matching her sports bra.

Rachel’s chest contracts even more, eyes unable to keep from roaming the amount of porcelain skin on display, and she can only watch as Quinn walks away to the showers with her hips swaying, disappearing into the thick steam that fogs the room as if she was never there in the first place.

The brunette expels a breath she didn’t know she was holding, heart beating out of her chest with rapid rise and falls, and she throws her head back to rest against the cold red locker, the cool metal doing nothing to calm her raging heat.

Letting herself slowly slide down to the floor, Rachel’s heartbeat doesn’t slow down for a second, pounding loudly in her ears along with the ache in her haunting her lower body, and it takes a good five minutes for her to get herself together enough to stumble out of the locker room with an intense flush on her face.

Well, at least she can confirm what she had told Kurt earlier.

She’s definitely physically attracted to Quinn Fabray.

Fucking _lust._


	5. III. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where we get emotional fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poetzproblem mentioned this fic on tumblr (SENPAI NOTICED ME) my life is complete and there is no point in continuing this fic amen.  
> …jk there’s no way I’m giving this up any time soon lol

**III.**

Gasping, Rachel wakes from her slumber with a desperate moan, fleeting flashes of hazel eyes and blonde tresses behind her eyelids.

Forehead sweaty and a hungry churn in her lower stomach, she curses the fact that she had to go to sleep with tightly clenched eyes and fists, refusing to resort to… _other measures_ to sort her _problem_ out.

Stretching and trying her best to control her teenage urges, she hears her phone chime next to her, and she frowns.

Quinn had texted her last night, and they had gone on with their usual banter and endless topics of discussion, but the blonde didn’t bring up what happened in the locker room, and Rachel was too afraid to ask.

It didn’t bother her, per say, but something about the situation had her puzzled, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure it out.

Last night, she probably would’ve spent hours thinking about the Cheerio’s words if she let herself, but then she ended up thinking about said Cheerio’s actions and tone while saying them, and well – let’s just say that she had to physically restrain her traitorous hands.

Her phone buzzes again, and she shakes her head, getting out of bed with a yawn.

**Quinn:** _Morning Rae. Be at your house in like 20._

Sending off a greeting of her own, Rachel can’t help her frown growing wider as she realizes that today’s the last day Quinn’s driving her.

The thought sends a pang of _something_ through her, and a familiar fear grasps her, because even though Quinn’s proven that she won’t leave, Rachel can’t shake her insecurities – What if the cheerleader’s just doing this because she just got too caught up that Friday, and now she’s just being polite, ready to bolt the second her promise is finished?

Rachel almost drives herself crazy with her loud thoughts over the whirl of her elliptical, and as she sullenly walks with Quinn to the honor-roll student’s car, she can’t bring herself to act cheerful.

“You okay?” Quinn asks a few minutes later, a worried brow furrowed. “You’re not even singing along to the music, and you _always_ do.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel offers a smile that doesn’t reach her face, and it’s a generic answer if she’s ever heard one.

A contemplative look crosses the taller girl’s face, and she asks, “Your dads’ car is getting fixed tomorrow, right?”

If anything, that just makes Rachel feel worse, her suspicions confirmed, because Quinn didn’t want to drive her after all, and she sullenly replies an affirmative. “Look, if you don’t want to drive me anymore, it’s completely fine, I can just walk home after school,” she mumbles, “I know that I’ve been a big hassle.”

“No you haven’t,” Quinn immediately protests, an understanding gleam in her eyes as if she had confirmed something. “I like driving you, and you do a lot more than you think.”

It doesn’t do much to lift the diva’s mood, and even when she settles down on the bleachers to do her math credits, it’s still with a visible gloom.

Even worse, Mr. Schue had canceled Glee that day – which at this point, everyone knows it’s because he’s too busy mooning over Pillsbury and cursing Dr. Howell – so Rachel couldn’t even sing a tear-jerking ballad to let her tremulous feelings out, and possibly motivate Quinn to like her more.

When the cheerleader drives her home, she tries her best to enjoy the ride and laugh with Quinn about trivial matters, but the looming fear that the blonde will drop her like nothing once this is over is always at the back of her mind, mongering over her head.

She hopes that somehow, the car will go slowly, but alas, it never does, and they reach her house all too quickly, the tires of Quinn’s car screeching to a holt.

The chivalrous cheerleader walks her to her door like she always does, and Rachel catches the blonde looking over the Cheerio’s jacket she’s wearing with an appraising gaze, not for the first time, and the brunette blushes, flattered by the attention.

“See you tomorrow?” Rachel asks, a hopeful lift to her voice.

“Definitely,” Quinn throws her a smile, leaving Rachel breathless like all the times before, and the singer tentatively sends one back, because that implies that Quinn intends to keep their friendship up, right?

When she watches the blonde drive away, she doesn’t know if the feeling in her chest is hope or dread.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Her phone doesn’t chime at 5:45, and Rachel pretends that it doesn’t upset her as much as it does.

She really shouldn’t be this dramatic – it’s one of her many flaws, she’s been told – but this is Quinn Fabray, and if anyone is allowed be dramatic about something, it’s definitely the blonde Cheerio, what with her show-stopping smile and stunning beauty. Anyone would be unhappy at the loss of Quinn driving them.

She will deny to her last breath that she absolutely broods while eating breakfast passive aggressively, but that’s what she does.

Purposely stabbing at her vegan pancakes with slow, jagged movements, she wonders if she can skip school today. Or tomorrow.

Or for fucking forever.

Bi-rry lets out an ungraceful snort at that, and Rachel just chews harder at her food, chomping down on it like Godzilla.

“What’s up with her?” Leroy asks as he walks into the kitchen.

Hiram looks as puzzled as he is. “No idea.”

“Maybe it’s her period?”

“How should I know, do I _look_ like someone who would know about these things?”

“Well neither do I, you’re the one who-”

“Father figures, I am right here you know,” Rachel snaps, “And while I appreciate your apparent concern, what I don’t is your insistence of talking over me like I don’t exist.”

“O…kay then,” Leroy exchanges a silent look with Hiram, but the shorter man doesn’t seem to know what’s gotten Rachel so wound up. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Everything!” she bemoans, throwing her hands up in a fit.

“Uh,” Hiram hedges, “Is Schue trying to ruin your life again?”

“He’s _always_ trying to ruin my life,” Rachel huffs, “But no.”

“Finn hurt your feelings?”

Rachel snorts, “The sooner he leaves me alone the better.”

“Kurt?”

She shoots him a look, and he rubs his head sheepishly, “Well then I don’t know, sweetie, I’m really reaching here.”

“Oh, I know,” Leroy suddenly snaps his fingers, “It’s that cheerleader, isn’t it? Sant- No, Quinn, I think.”

At that, Rachel lets out a wail, and hides herself in her arms.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” her dad cautiously deduces, “I thought that she turned over a new leaf over or something after she got pregnant and kicked out – honestly I thought that Russell couldn’t get worse – but is she giving you a hard time again?”

Leroy’s words only serve to increase Rachel’s woe, and she miserably mourns, “No! If anything, she’s giving me too _little_ of a hard time!”

Her fathers seem to be at a lost at what to say. “…Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s horrible!” Rachel bursts out, “She’s being all nice and sweet and now I’m getting too clingy and then she’ll realize that and hate me!”

Her outburst stuns them both into silence, but before any of them can say something, her phone chimes, reminding the brunette of Quinn’s pick-up text, and she nearly throws it out of the window (conveniently right next to her) right then and there.

Dejectedly, she glances over at her phone, expecting to find Jacob Ben Israel sending her a creepy text again after changing his number for the nth time.

**Quinn:** _Morning Rach, be there in three seconds :)_

Wait, what?

Furrowing her brow, Rachel reads over the text again, and she doesn’t fully process it until she hears the doorbell ring, and making a grab for her bag and ignoring her fathers’ inquisitive looks, she basically trips her way to the door, opening it with a bewildered look.

“Hey,” Quinn greets, and the blonde is unprepared for the crushing bear-hug that Rachel smoothers her in.

“You’re here,” the brunette smiles against the taller girl’s neck, tone slightly awed.

“Well I have to find _someone_ to add to my car radio every day,” Quinn shrugs as best as she can while enveloped in the shorter girl’s embrace.

Realizing that she’s probably lingering too long, Rachel reluctantly pulls away, voice still in that breathless hue. “Every day?”

At this, Quinn looks almost _shy_ , biting her lip with a half-smile in rare display of uncertainty. “If you want me to.”

The picture is almost too adorable for Rachel to handle, and she loops her arm with the blonde’s, tugging them towards the car with a grin.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

They fall into the schedule they’ve seemed to establish the past few days, with Rachel watching Quinn’s Cheerio practice before walking to class, eating together at lunch before Glee, and then when school ends, the brunette stays in the auditorium to practice her singing until Quinn comes after cheering.

The fact that they have a _schedule_ , that Quinn deems her close enough to create a daily routine with her, makes her heart flutter, and she practically bounces down the stairs to breakfast the next day.

Her dads barely bat an eye at her stark contrast in mood, already used to her diva-tistic tendencies – which reminds her to prepare another PowerPoint for them on proper parenting etiquette – and she happily eats her breakfast, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Thirty minutes later, she’s trying her best to do her homework in spite of the highly distracting flying of red skirts, and when Sylvester finally dismisses the Cheerios to go shower, the diva looks over her work only to find endless lines of scribbles.

Well, at least that’s an improvement over the drool she found yesterday.

She’s walking to the school doors with a skip to her step when she’s roughly pushed from behind, and she staggers forward, narrowly managing to avoid a head-first crash against the wall.

Cornered, she looks upon her assailants with confused eyes. Three sophomore Cheerios, towering over her with their hands on their hips in a poor imitation of the HBIC pose.

“Good morning,” she nervously greets, eyes darting around to look for Quinn. “How may I help you?”

“You can _help_ me by stopping to spread your dyke disease, RuPaul,” the one in the middle snarls, causing Rachel to wince. She hadn’t heard that one in a while, and it stung.

“I’m not sure I’m following here,” she stalls, “Would you be so kind as to clarify?”

“Oh don’t play stupid,” the one to the right sneers, dark and full with malice. “We know that you’ve been talking to Quinn, getting her to think that she can protect the losers of this school. But she can’t. You’re a loser, at the bottom of the barrel, and that’s what you always will be. So quit trying to pretend you’re better than us because you have Quinn Fabray on your side, you’ll only end up dragging her down, and then she’ll leave you like everyone else!”

Maybe it’s because Rachel hasn’t heard these insults for at least four months, or maybe it’s because she’s gotten used to Quinn’s sweet words, but they cut her deep, playing on her insecurities, and she shrinks into herself on reflex, even though she knows that it’ll only spur her tormentors on.

They’ll finish their verbal abuse eventually, and she’ll be able to get away soon, so she just wraps her arms around herself and hope they get bored soon. They always do, after a while.

But it doesn’t stop her from scanning the field in hope that Quinn will come to her rescue like she did on Monday, to take her into her arms and warmth and never let go.

It’s a dangerous train of thought to have, and there’s probably at least a dozen warning signs that she needs to take note of, but it’s what her treacherous mind wanders to, and she’s powerless to stop it.

The Cheerios continue to throw demeaning taunts and jeers at her like blades, and she keeps her eyes trained on her sneakers in humiliation.

She won’t cry and give them the satisfaction. She won’t.

Like all the times before, only the walls of the bathroom will ever see her cry.

But then a familiar voice cuts in, and she almost cries out in relief. _Quinn._

“Back the _fuck_ away from her!” the blonde all but demands, absolutely enraged with her hazel pools of darkness alight.

The three Cheerios take a step back instinctively, looks of terror flashing on their faces, which grants Rachel just enough time to flee behind Quinn, feeling an immense sense of safety and comfort already at the girl’s presence.

The head cheerleader radiates unadulterated anger, glaring daggers and burning holes through her squad-mates’ heads.

Reaching a hand out to softly touch Quinn’s hand placed on her waist, Rachel rubs her thumb over the back of the smooth pale hand, and the blonde relaxes, if only slightly.

On Monday, Quinn had her disinterested, aloof act on to Karofsky and Azimio, speaking in her lazy yet threatening drawl. This time, she is full-on fuming, posture coiled like she’s ready to pounce and strike at any time.

Rachel thinks that it’s maybe the two football players had only tried to Slushy her, but the Cheerios had given her a verbal beatdown, and Quinn knows that it hurts Rachel much more than a slushie could, which made the blonde the more furious.

“What. Did I. Say. About. Rachel. On. Monday?”

Quinn pronounces each word like she’s stabbing someone, and she probably is going to soon, judging by the looks of sheer panic the three sophomores are unable to keep hidden.

“You said that she was off-limits,” one of them replies weakly, as if she already knows that she won’t be able to escape the Queen Bee’s wrath.

(She won’t. Rachel knows the look on Quinn’s face well enough.)

“Yep,” the tall blonde hums, managing to make that sound downright scary too. “So can someone tell me why the fuck did you decide to do what you did?”

None of the three answer, and Quinn looks to Rachel, face turning softer with something akin to concern and worry. “What did they say?” she asks gently. “Tell me and I’ll kick their asses so hard they won’t be able to walk for a week. Or maybe a month, I don’t care.”

Not wanting to cause even more of a scene, the brunette hesitates in responding, but the look on Quinn’s face is pleading, as if she needs to know, and it is what prompts Rachel to whisper in resignation, the words still hurting as she says them, “They thought that I was spreading my ‘dyke disease’ to you.”

The tall girl standing in front of her protectively looks absolutely _livid_ as she processes the words, and Rachel actually worries for the three Cheerios’ safety for a second.

Rushing to squeeze at Quinn’s hand, the diva reminds, “Quinn.”

There’s an almost imperceptible change in the blonde’s hard eyes, but it’s there, and she turns back to her squad-mates. “I won’t bother to correct you because I know you won’t think differently,” she growls, voice full of steel. “But what I _am_ going to do is far worse. Forty laps, _now_.”

The three girls pale instantly, and Rachel almost feels bad for them. Ten miles would definitely send someone to the sick room for a while, especially after a grueling Cheerio’s practice. Almost.

They start to plead, but it’s no use, and Quinn barks, “ _Now_!”

There’s a collective gulp, and sullenly, they start to jog towards the track.

Quinn stares after them with a glare that could cut diamond, and Rachel can only look at the head cheerleader, chest still rising and falling with anger.

The honor-roll student looks freshly showered, water droplets still on her skin and hair still damp and down her shoulders, and now that the danger is over, the petite singer allows herself to be filled with appreciation instead (of both the varieties).

Her eyes unabashedly follow the water droplets that drip down from Quinn’s hair to her neck in a slow trail, and Rachel feels her own panties drip with moisture of her own. Really, it’s almost jarring how Quinn can get her hot and bothered in a minute than Finn could in hours.

“They have a free period, along with Santana, so they won’t be able to get out of their laps any time soon,” Quinn promises, a hint of hardness still residing in her tone, snapping the diva out of her Quinn-induced trance.

“Thank you,” she whispers quietly.

It’s only then that she truly allows herself to let the hurtful words the three Cheerios had aimed at her sink in, and she feels her eyes sting.

Soon enough, she feels a pair of strong arms circling around her body, and a comforting chin on her head. Burying her head into Quinn’s neck and sucking in a breath, she lets herself be held and rocked back and forth, losing herself in the warm body wrapped around her.

It’s then that it occurs to her that she’s never really been _held_ like this, taken care of and treasured, and that’s what unleashes the waterworks to fall, Rachel sobbing into the taller girl’s uniform.

Throughout it all, Quinn just holds her tight, pulling her flush against her body and saying nothing. She understands perfectly that right now, actions are speaking much more than words can, and Rachel will forever be grateful for that.

They’re probably going to be late for class again, but for once, she doesn’t care, content to just bask in Quinn’s warmth and soak it all in.

The blonde rubs slow circles on the brunette’s back until her shaking body calms down, and she pulls away just enough to look at Rachel’s eyes. “Wanna go sit on the bleachers and watch them suffer until you feel better?” she offers, and the gesture just makes the singer burst out in tears.

“I didn’t want to make you cry, I’m sorry,” Quinn frantically tries to discern what she did wrong, “Do you want me to drive you home to watch Funny Girl or something? Or take you to a karaoke place to sing?”

Shaking her head, Rachel sniffles, chest full with adoration. “How did I get such a good friend?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn gives her a small smile. “How _did_ you bribe Kurt anyway?”

“Oh stop your modesty act,” she half-heartedly complains. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“I could never outshine you,” the cheerleader sincerely admits, and the genuine _truth_ Rachel can see shining in those eyes gives her a head rush in all the best ways. “Now come on, let’s go to the bathroom to clean up.”

The bell has long rung, so the halls are empty, but Quinn still shields her by hiding her in her chest, gently guiding her to the nearest bathroom as if she’s an angel guiding her to salvation.

Rachel moves to the paper tissues and the sink almost routinely, and when Quinn speaks, it’s with a guilty and remorseful tone. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t reply, and that’s answer enough.

“I am _so_ -”

“Don’t,” Rachel cuts her off, and it comes off harsher than intended. She softens the edge in her voice, “Just…don’t, please Quinn? You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted it. Stop beating yourself up over it. The things you did will never be okay, but we’ve all moved on, and the only thing left is to forgive yourself.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for a long time, eyes gazing upon Rachel’s tear-tracked face with pain, and when she does a few moments later, it’s with a hesitant upturn of her lips. “I was going to say that I was sick of your insistence of not wearing my letterman properly, but that’s okay too, I guess.”

Rachel lets out a watery laugh, and she allows the blonde to take the jacket from the bag to help her in it. “I didn’t want to seem too clingy,” she defends meekly, unable to meet Quinn’s eyes.

“Eyes up Berry, we’ve gone over this,” the cheerleader clicks her tongue, “I _like_ seeing you in my clothes, and I _like_ spending time with you. Well…if you want to, that is, but you’ve given me quite an ego-boost just now, so I’m just gonna invite you to ditch class with me instead.”

At that, Rachel huffs, rolls her eyes and smiles at the same time, looping her arm with Quinn’s. “You’re such a terrible influence,” she shakes her head fondly.

The taller girl quirks an eyebrow at her. “Is that a yes?”

Rachel doesn’t deign to dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the sink to wash up with a laugh.

But then Quinn suddenly is holding her from behind, gently turning her around to face her as the cheerleader takes the wet tissue from her hand. “You’re beautiful, Rachel.”

The words are uttered in a breathy husk, almost reverential like it can’t be anything but the truth, and it throws her off-guard immediately, her breath lifting in a silent hitch. “Quinn, I-”

“You’re beautiful, you’re amazing, and you’re _perfect_.”

This time, they’re accompanied by Quinn wiping away her dried tears with a steady yet tender hand. The moment is just so _intimate_ that Rachel can only stand there and let the blonde take care of her, unable to look away from shining hazels that seem to breathe life into her.

Quinn seems equally taken by their position, so close that their bodies are barely apart, and for a second, it’s almost like the blonde wants to close the distance entirely. Rachel’s heart starts beating ferociously, but then Quinn realizes what she’s doing and pulls away abruptedly.

“Come on, let’s go to class like boring little teacher’s pets.”

“Okay.”

Just like that, the moment is broken, but Rachel can’t bring herself to care as Quinn tugs them off to their shared second period literature class, the bell ringing just in time.

Their arms stay snuggly intertwined as they walk through the empty halls, and the singer tries to ignore the stark flutters in her stomach at the warmth.

(She utterly and miserably fails, and Bi-rry crackles the whole way through.)

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

As Rachel goes to sit at her usual front row and center seat, Quinn snorts and pulls her away to the back instead, much to her protest and distain.

“Quinn Fabray what are you doing,” she whisper-screeches, “I must claim the best seat in the class, or else I won’t be able to grasp the material sufficiently, and Julliard doesn’t accept anything but the best, so I implore you to let me go and look upon my incredible work ethic as an example to good student-ing, joining me to-”

“Rachel,” Quinn snaps her fingers, tone fond and now settled down at the corner seat. She tugs gently at the brunette’s hand, guiding her to the seat next to the Cheerio as she says in an amused hue, “I’ll tutor you, now sit down, or else people will think that I’m kidnapping you.”

“You might as well be,” she sulks in response, before acquiescing to the blonde’s wishes and plopping down into the seat with her arms crossed.

The corner of Quinn’s mouth quirks up, and she chuckles, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

It’s at that time when their literature teacher Mr. Poe comes in, and at the empty seat that’s usually filled by a short and loud brunette, he frowns, confused. “Uh, Ms. Berry, you okay back there?”

Rachel produces a ‘hmmph’ sound and raises her hand, sitting straighter. “Of course I am perfectly fine Mr. Poe, it’s not like I was dragged here against my will at all, and I assure you, I will pay my complete and focused attention to your teachings as per usual, so do not despair.”

Mr. Poe simply stares at her with a dumbfounded look, and mutters a few choice words under his breath – Rachel has perfect hearing, and she doesn’t appreciate the things he says, thank you berry much – before shaking his head and beginning the lesson.

A soft laugh brings the diva’s attention elsewhere, and she looks to the right where Quinn is looking at her with an entertained yet soft expression, seemingly studying her.

“Your neck cranes and your eyes widen slightly when you get worked up like that, and you bite your lip a bit,” the blonde notes, gaze still directed at her every move. “It’s cute.”

Rachel blushes, ducking her head like a bashful schoolgirl, and bites down harder on her inner lip. “Thank you,” she mummers, a fuzzing warmth resting lazily on her chest.

It seemed like every word Quinn says is perfectly thought out and executed, managing to strike at all Rachel’s weak points, and she loves how the honor-roll student’s words can make her feel everything and anything at once, breathing life into her.

Before, Quinn would tear and rip her apart at the seams with her cruel and cutting words, calculated and measured to create the most damage possible. But now, the head cheerleader uses her words to make her feel the most amazing things instead, inspiring confidence and the will to be better in Rachel. She’s still torn apart at the seams, but this time it’s because of Quinn’s absolutely beautiful words, building her back up stronger than before.

Quinn Fabray is a wordsmith by the very definition of the word, and Rachel loves that she’s one of the few people who gets to learn these little things about the blonde, the little things that only she gets the privilege to know and cherish.

She doesn’t know what she had done to deserve this, but every day she learns more about Quinn, hungering for more, and she hopes that the feeling will never stop.

Her thoughts are interrupted by hearing her name called by Mr. Poe, along with Quinn’s, and she glances at the Cheerio with a bemused look.

“Well that’s convenient,” the blonde sends a smile her way, and Rachel furrows her brow in a silent question. “We got paired up for a project on the Odyssey,” Quinn fills her in, before teasing with a playful sardonic edge, “Complete and focused attention my ass.”

_Well, Quinn_ does _have a lovely ass,_ Rachel muses, _So no one can blame me for doing just that._

Wait. Those aren’t appropriate thoughts.

Eh fuck it, blame it on Bi-rry, it’s her fault most of the time anyway.

But really, that really is a nice ass – round and full, always swaying deliciously, and oh god when-

Shit, stop! She feels that all-too-familiar churn in her lower belly, consuming her into an ever-lasting inferno, and Quinn is _right fucking there_ , looking at her with that goddamn sexy eyebrow and half-smirk, and she’s going to explode soon if she doesn’t do anything, so she mumbles the first thing that comes to mind.

“My place!” she blurts out, and colors immediately, eyes wide in mortification.

Thankfully, Quinn just looks on with an amused and affectionate eyebrow raise as she always does. “You propositioning me Berry? I’ll have you know that I don’t put out on the first date you know,” she smirks, before adding, much like an afterthought, “Well, I guess I did for Puck, but then again, I was drunk and feeling fat, and now I have the power of therapy on my side, so good luck with that.”

The reminder of Quinn and Puck’s brief dalliance sends a sinking feeling to her, overriding her urge to blush a beet red, but she shakes it off, chalking it up to her being upset at Puck’s taking advantage of the blonde – she doesn’t care how pretty he makes it sound, she might not go as far as call it rape, but even at best it was dubious consent, and she’s still pretty mad at him for that.

Taking a breath to block out the sudden unsettle in her stomach, Rachel tries for a smile. “I meant that we could do the project at my place,” she clarifies sheepishly.

Quinn agrees easily enough, and the day goes by as quick as a flash, because Rachel’s walking with the blonde to her doorstep while hyperventilating in what seems to her as only a little while later.

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,_ she chants in her internal freak-out, _Quinn Fabray’s coming over to my house what the hell was I thinking, it’s entirely not tidy enough and there’s too much Broadway memorabilia and she’s going to regret getting involved in my crazy and leave me like everyone else, fuck fuck fuck fuck-_

“Rae?” the blonde cheerleader’s concerned voice rings in her ears, “You look like you’re having a panic attack, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she yelps as she rapidly gulps in another breath, chest feeling like it’s contracting and expanding at the same time, “I just- Well, I seem to be – _fuck_ – having a hard- a hard time breathing right now.”

“Shit,” Quinn breathes out as she quickly moves to steady the brunette, grabbing her arms gently. “Okay, breathe in and out with me,” the taller girl instructs, “Can you do that, Superstar? In and out, just like that.”

Rachel barely resisters the words, and she tries to follow the cheerleader’s commands, but it’s no use, and she feels her lungs too much and too little air at the same time, suffocating her, and it’s like she’s drowning, slowly choking to death.

“I can’t,” she rasps, tears stinging in her eyes. “I can’t- I can’t breathe, and it _hurts_ , and I can’t- I can’t, Quinn, _please,_ I just _can’t-_ ”

“Yes you can Rae,” Quinn assures her, one hand reaching down to lightly pry open the singer’s clenched shut fingers. “You’re strong, and you’re _safe_ , and you can do it. Now breathe with me, yeah sweetie? Breathe with me, you’re _okay_ , so just breathe with me.”

Maybe it’s the feeling of Quinn’s hand in hers, weighty and _there_ , or maybe it’s the blonde’s words, coaxing her on, because for a brief second, her mind clears, a haunting moment of clarity, and she follows the taller girl’s lead, trying her best to regulate her breathing without panicking.

Squeezing hard at the hand clutched in hers, she ignores the stark pain aching _everywhere_ , and she breathes like Quinn guides her to, slowly taking in a breath before releasing it.

Her lungs feel like they’re on fire and her throat is like it’s being strangled and choked, but Quinn is right in front of her, goading her on with reassuring and supportive words all the way through, and somehow, Rachel finds it in herself to calm down, chest still panting with harsh breaths.

Suddenly, her knees give out, and she wobbles unsteadily, legs unable to support her weight and head light, feeling as if it’s splitting apart and drumming in her head like a loud voice that won’t shut up, drilling into her head again and again.

For a second, she frantically thinks that she’s going to fall, but then Quinn’s arms are around her like a safety blanket, holding her up like a pillar of strength.

Feeling absolutely safe in those warm arms, she lets out a shaky breath, chest still aching impossibly, and she closes her eyes, blocking out the overload of sensations.

It doesn’t occur to her that Quinn had taken her keys and guided them into the living room’s sofa until she’s half-draped over the porcelain-skinned girl, head buried in her neck.

The whole ordeal is maybe just five minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity to Rachel, and the silence is stifling, like it’s peering into all her secrets and insecurities.

“Do you have any kind of pills you can take?” Quinn’s soft voice asks after a while. “I have Xanax and Tofranil in different dosages if you need it.”

Rachel shakes her head softly, and if she wasn’t so emotionally drained, she would question why Quinn would possess those anti-depressants, but she can’t really focus on anything right now, vision a blurry mess, so she simply burrows her head further into the cheerleader’s neck, clinging onto her like a lifeline.

When she feels Quinn shift under her to maneuver away, something within her snaps, and she grabs on even tighter, letting out a little whimper. _Don’t leave me._

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” the blonde assures her, fingers threading through brown locks soothingly. “I’m just going to get some water, okay?”

Exhaling unsteadily, Rachel reluctantly loosens her grip and allows Quinn to bring her some water. “Thank you.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

There’s a part of Rachel that doesn’t want to, afraid that Quinn’s going to mock her, but then hazel eyes are shining at her, and suddenly she’s not scared anymore, quietly relaying her train of thought before her panic attack had happened.

“I don’t really get them often,” she explains afterward, eyes trained on her nervously fiddling fingers. “But I guess what happened today…you know, _earlier_ , triggered me.”

Even just saying that much already has her cringing, ashamed to say more and worried that Quinn will think her to be even more pathetic than she already is, but thankfully, it’s like the blonde can hear her thoughts, and she doesn’t probe further.

“The first five times mom forced me into therapy, I didn’t speak the entire time,” is what the Cheerio confesses instead, taking the attention off Rachel to let her breathe for a minute. “I was having anxiety attacks every day, I barely ate, and I _hated_ myself, Rachel, so _fucking_ much. So why unload all my shit on Dr. Flayke, when she was going to hand me off the second she saw how much of a fuckup I really was? Everyone leaves, at some point. I mean, my own _parents_ kicked me out when all I needed was daddy to tell me that he loves me and that everything was going to be okay.”

Quinn shrugs as she says this, blasé as ever like she’s already accepted it as what it is, and Rachel’s heart pangs as she says, “Quinn-”

“I’m not telling you this for you to feel sorry for me – god knows I’ve done enough of that already – but because I wanted to show you that you’re not alone,” the blonde cuts her off, “During the sixth session, Dr. Flayke told me about how she had decided to pull the plug on her deathly ill newborn’s life support, and she asked me if I thought that she was a heartless person for doing so. She told me of how she had tried to kill herself afterward, and how she had eventually come to terms with the fact that she had done it out of love.

“And I thought, if she could feel that way, then why couldn’t I? Why couldn’t anyone? One session by one session, I rebuilt my faith in people, and well, my mom hasn’t left me yet, and neither have you. So I’m asking you to put that trust in me, that I won’t leave like Finn or Jesse or Shelby, and I promise you that I’ll never take you for granted ever again.”

Rachel processes the words for a long time. There’s a lot that she wants to say, like how she’s sorry for still not trusting Quinn fully or not having reached out when it was so obvious that she was suffering, or how thankful she is to have the blonde as her friend.

What comes out is “You should do go a Ted Talk.”

Quinn laughs, full and bright. “Come on Berry, let’s go to your room to finish the damn project.”

When the cheerleader sees the big golden star plastered on her door, she simply shakes her head fondly, and Rachel forgets why she was so scared in the first place.

“You really should add some glow-in-the-dark ones to your ceiling,” Quinn teases as she puts her bag in the corner, “I think ‘I love Quinn Fabray’ would look terrific, or maybe ‘Quinn Fabray’s No. 1 fan’, your pick.”

“More like terrifying,” Rachel mutters, “Plus, I had to take down the stars a few years ago due to the neighbours complaining that they were too bright from my window.”

“I can’t even tell if that’s a joke or not.”

“Come on, I’m not _that_ bad,” she pouts.

The blonde stares at her until she gets the point.


	6. III. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where the a Troye Sivan song reveals something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got my math finals tomorrow, so if there are some glaring mistakes in this, I apologize profusely, I’ll get around to correcting them a few days later. (And then I’ll finally be able to write at full-speed and achieve world domina- Yeah, the math’s messing with my head)

“Remind me how you convinced me to do this again?” Rachel asks once again on their way to the mall to meet Santana and Brittany.

Quinn cheekily grins at her, lips upturned in her signature half-smirk. “No one can resist the Fabray charm Berry, not even you.”

“I resent that,” she grumbles in response, though she’s not quite able to keep down her smile.

Laughing, the taller girl reverses into a parking spot. “Santana won’t bite, I promise.”

“I’m more worried about her biting Brittany, to be honest.” Rachel makes a face, and Quinn laughs again, making a budding proudness in her stomach flutter, because _ha! I just made Quinn Fabray laugh and it’s the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard – sorry Barbra._

They meet up with the rest of the Unholy Trinity a few minutes later, and she’s taken aback by the sight of them in casual clothes, with Brittany in a t-shirt with a duck in the middle and Santana in a sleeveless hoodie. It takes some time for Rachel’s eyes to adjust to it, the two just looking so… _normal_ in those clothes and so unlike the knights in red that terrorized the school on a daily basis that she can’t quite reconcile the two images in her head.

“Hey midget,” Santana calls and nods at Quinn. “Q.”

_Well, it’s good to know that their personalities are somewhat the same then…wait, Santana- on a second thought, probably not._

Quinn sighs, as if she knows that it’s probably the best they’re going to be getting out of the Latina for now, and she greets back, “Satan.”

The four of them quickly go from shop to shop, and Rachel’s pleasantly surprised that she’s been integrated into the Unholy Trinity’s dynamic rather seamlessly, sliding into banter like old friends.

Santana seems so much looser and less on edge than in school, giving out smiles much more freely and just genuinely _happier_ , walking next to Brittany with her posture relaxed. A lot of her snark is toned down, and most of her insults are made in good jest. It’s a refreshing change, and while Rachel is still cautious and refrains from speaking out, she enjoys herself a lot more than she thought she would, and watching the Unholy Trinity’s dynamic is fascinating all in itself.

While Brittany is the same chipper and airy free spirit she is, keeping Santana and Quinn from getting into fights, there’s also something different about her, a slight shift in the air that Rachel can’t identify but still a welcome one, and when she asks about it, the tall blonde simply smiles at her. “I can be whoever I want with them.”

At the same time, there’s a grudging comradeship between Quinn and Santana, because while they take shots at each other basically every ten seconds, it’s clear that they’d stick up for the other no matter what. Rachel was definitely confused by this when she first witnessed their interaction, especially what with their skirmishes for the Head Cheerio spot, but now that she’s gotten the time to fully analyze their strange relationship, she understands more. Santana defers to Quinn as her second-in-command, and Quinn knows and respects that.

“Fuck you, you almost split your drink all over me!”

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have if _somebody_ wasn’t so fat!”

…Most of the time, she supposes.

It’s somewhere in this chaos that she somehow gets wrangled into trying on clothes that she wouldn’t buy ever, and five minutes later, she looks into the mirror while nervously straightening out imaginary wrinkles on her dress.

Dressed in black pumps and a strapless (thank god she heeded Quinn’s warning to wear a strapless bra) dark blue dress that left little to the imagination as it clung onto her curves like second skin and showed ample cleavage, she feels strange and empowered at the same time, weighing on her chest in a way that she can’t decide is good or bad.

“Oi Berry, you’ve been in there for ages,” Santana’s brash voice rings out. “Come out and show the goods, dammit, we haven’t even gotten to the real good stuff yet!”

Gulping, she apprehensively goes out of the changing room, feeling somewhat out of place since her fathers never could properly teach her fashion sense like a woman could, and she exhales in an attempt to calm her nerves.

She’s prepared for a teasing taunt or two, but she doesn’t get them.

Instead, Santana whistles appreciatively, Brittany claps her hands, and Quinn?

Well, Quinn gazes upon her form with something that can only be described as hungry lust, tracing all of her curves with fervor, and Rachel unconsciously straightens, jutting her chest out further and absolutely drunk on the feeling of being wanted, being _desired_.

With a confidence similar to the time she wore the Brittany Spears outfit to school, she smirks, rather liking the role reversal where she’s not the one speechless. “Look good?”

“Yeah,” Quinn breathes out, visibly swallowing, before she inhales sharply and changes gear, a considerate look showing on her face instead. “But you don’t have to wear it if you feel uncomfortable, you look perfectly fine in your sweaters, I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to wear anything Santana tells you to.”

Santana makes a snarky comment at that, but Rachel barely hears it over her heartbeat thumping in her ears at the head cheerleader’s sweetness, and she says, “I wouldn’t be…adverse to changing my wardrobe, though I would definitely like if it was less, well, _revealing_.”

“How is your outfit too insulting?” Brittany puzzles.

“You’re thinking of ‘reviling’ Britts,” Santana corrects, before turning to Rachel with a grin. “That’s the spirit, dwarf! Q, your girl might not be so bad after all.”

Rachel blushes – _well, it was good while it lasted,_ Bi-rry sighs – at being referred to Quinn’s, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. Is that what others saw her as? Quinn’s _girl_?

She finds that she quite likes it, and the implications of that terrify her.

Chancing a glance at the honor-roll student, she sees Quinn roll her eyes at Santana before catching the short singer’s eyes, and her look turns almost shy, biting her lip in a way that Rachel really shouldn’t find as cute as it is.

She tentatively sends a smile the blonde’s way, and receives one in return, making her heart skip a few beats. “Make sure Santana won’t go overboard for me?”

Quinn hums her reply, and pretty soon, they’ve picked out an entire new wardrobe for Rachel, most of them remarkably modest compared to some of the barely-clothes she had seen Santana picking out for herself.

Some even look like her usual attire, though the Unholy Trinity had made sure that everything is sans argyle, and she steps out of the changing room with flat heels, a black cardigan over a white blouse, and a red skirt, tugging on the hem of her blouse in a mix of excitedness and nervousness at her new change of style.

She’s still examining the many dresses and clothes in her bag, mentally cringing when she realizes how much she had burned through her dad’s credit card but sure that he wouldn’t mind, when she hears Quinn come out of the other changing room, and- _oh_ _wow_.

Quinn’s dressed in a skin-tight black tank top, every dip and contour deliciously put on display, and Rachel can’t stop her wandering eyes if she tried, gaze racking over creamy skin and further down to – _well fuck_ , she damn near drools at the mouth, because Quinn Fabray is wearing fucking white denim booty shorts and owning it like a queen, the material molded to the blonde’s ass delectably as Rachel fights the urge to shamelessly gawp at miles of smooth creamy leg mileage.

Somewhere along the line, Quinn grabs a blue jean jacket from a nearby rack and puts it on, making Rachel mourn the loss of the silky alabaster skin of defined shoulders, but then the head cheerleader twirls a bit with a tempting smirk, and Rachel reevaluates her life decisions immediately; Quinn in a blue jean jacket is something that she never knew she needed, the taller girl very much rocking it.

She’s still arguing with Bi-rry about the pros and cons of the honor-roll student in a jacket or no, when said honor-roll student turns her way with a quirked eyebrow. “You like, Berry?”

There’s a PowerPoint presentation all mapped out in her head about _how_ much she likes it, but Rachel’s in her teenage-boy mentality at the moment, all higher brain function lost, and all she can mumble while biting the inside of her lip is, “I like. I like _a lot_.”

Santana barks out a laugh, “Okay Q, gotta admit, she pulls off that cute-sexy hybrid good, me gusta.”

“But not as much as you do me right?” Brittany frowns, tilting her like in a way not unlike a puppy.

“Definitely not as much, Britts,” the airy blonde’s girlfriend grins, and even now, Rachel’s taken aback at the uncharacteristic softness in her tone, but then Santana’s grin turns lecherous, and the moment is broken. “Speaking of how much I do you, how about I go ahead and do you over there in the changing room, mama’s got-”

“Aannnd, that’s enough,” Quinn’s sharp voice cuts through the two, who look like they’re about to start doing it any minute now, and at Santana’s blatant ignorance of her warning, already tugging her girlfriend away, the blonde sighs, before dragging Rachel to another section of the store. “Come on Superstar, time to leave before they inevitably get kicked out, there’re changing rooms over here too.”

Rachel just dumbly follows, eyes trained to the swell of Quinn’s swaying ass. “They’re not actually going to have sex, right?”

The taller girl snorts, “I’ve been woken up by their rampant fucking for _years_ , nothing fazes me anymore now that I’ve seen them do strap-on anal- oh wait, god wouldn’t like me ‘spreading my perverseness’…sorry Jesus.”

“Well,” Rachel squeaks, a flush building up on her neck. “I suppose that a healthy sex life is a good thing.”

She really shouldn’t be embarrassed about discussing kind-of kinky lesbian sex, but it’s with _Christ Crusader Quinn Fabray_ , and then she starts thinking about kinky sex with said girl, mind uncontrollably flashing through scenes of pleasured moans and skin against skin.

She doesn’t think that she’d be into anal, so that’s not the reason why her body is lit aflame, but then she pictures Quinn driving into her with a strap-on, and _oh fuck_ , she thanks heaven that she isn’t wearing pants, or else they’d be soaked through.

Her throat lets out a little whimper unwillingly, and Quinn looks at her with an eyebrow quirked – which really, has no right to look so disturbingly sexy – and throws her a smirk, drawling in her downright sensual husk, “You alright there?”

Stammering affirmatives, Rachel practically flees to one of the changing rooms, shutting the door with her heart pounding out of her chest and fantasies of Quinn Fabray with a strap-on chasing her behind her eyelids. Her hand itches so, _so_ badly to reach down, just a little bit, and-

_No, bad Rachel!_ she inwardly berates herself, forcing her hand to move away from the increasingly tempting urge.

“You sure you’re fine?” Quinn’s voice rings out from the next changing room over, sounding all too pleased. “Anything I can help you with?”

Oh, there’s definitely something the blonde can _help_ her with.

It’s autumn, but Rachel has never needed a cold shower more in her life.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

The next day, Quinn doesn’t eat lunch with her, saying that she has to prepare for something, and Rachel knows that the Cheerio isn’t obligated to eat with her in any way, but it still leaves her in a foul mood, lip jutted out in a pout as she walks in, first as always, into the choir room.

She tries not to grumble sullenly in her second-row seat at Glee (Quinn and her had reached a compromise), and she knows that it’s only just for one lunch, but she misses Quinn already, the entire lunch period without the blonde by her side making her feel a strange sense of longing.

There’s probably something more to be dwelled on in that line of thought, but then just as Mr. Schue starts to ask for the whereabouts of the Unholy Trinity, they come in, and Rachel immediately sees that there’s something they’re tensed about.

She may only be able to identify traces of softness in Santana and Brittany, but the day-in day-out time she’s spent with Quinn has helped her gain access to the head cheerleader’s tics, and right now, the honor-roll student is displaying a host of them.

Quinn’s jaw is set, in a way that’s sharp but determined, and her posture is even straighter than normal, ramrod straight in her HBIC posture, but it’s her eyes that truly give her away.

Rachel finds an array of different emotions flickering those pools of hazel, with nervousness, fear, and a resignation that’s expecting the worst all mixed together, but there’s also a stark resolution, as if Quinn’s made up her mind on something very important.

The tiny brunette’s brow furrows, and she begins to beckon the blonde over with curious and concerned eyes, but then Mr. Schue beats her to it. “Oh hey, you’re here, now take a seat and we’ll begin, I have a lot of great-”

“Wait, Mr. Schue,” Quinn interrupts, suddenly looking deathly afraid, and she looks to Santana and Brittany for something, perhaps reassurance, before swallowing tightly and continuing, “I-I actually have something to perform today.”

“That’s great Quinn,” their teacher grins, clearly happy that the usually silent blonde is participating, and motions, “The stage is all yours.”

Quinn takes a deep breath, and Rachel can hear its shakiness, confirmed by the way that the cheerleader’s chest shudders, before she gives a jerky nod and moves to the center of the room with tennis shoes clacking against the floor.

A piano arrangement starts playing, clearly modified to let Quinn’s voice shine, and the opening notes wash over the Glee club, now collectively in a quiet undoubtedly fueled by interest and noisiness.

_The truth runs wild like a tear down a cheek_  
_Trying to save face and daddy heartbreak I’m lying through my teeth_  
_This voice inside has been eating at me_  
_Trying to replace the love that I fake with what we both need_

Quinn’s voice is in her smooth husky alto, but there’s an underlying vulnerability breaking through it, evident through how the honor-roll student can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes, and Rachel, without fully knowing what Quinn’s even singing about, feels her heart go out to the girl, panging with an ache she can’t describe.

She’s singing about Beth and all the lies during the pregnancy, right?

Despite knowing that in no way could a friendship fostered in a week could stretch that deep, Rachel still feels a pang of hurt that Quinn didn’t come to her for help, and she feels guilty immediately, burying it deep in her chest.

This is about Quinn, and she’s going to be supportive, her own feelings aside.

But really, the blonde does have a _wonderful_ voice, crooning out the lyrics in her silky tone and making the lyrics stand out even more, and Rachel feels herself captivated.

_The truth runs wild like kids on concrete_  
_Trying to sedate my mind in its cage and numb what I see_  
_Awake, wide eyed I’m screaming at me_  
_Trying to keep faith and picture her face staring up at me_

Casting a glance to the other Gleeks, almost all of them seem as intrigued as her, casting supportive looks to the blonde, but it’s within Kurt, Santana, and Brittany’s expressions that puzzle Rachel.

Kurt is wearing a knowing but encouraging smile, Brittany is swaying excitedly (which, actually, doesn’t seem far from usual), and an almost proud smirk is on Santana’s face, which is what tips the petite singer off.

She briefly wonders if Quinn is singing about something else, but then that is discarded soon enough, because what else but Beth could it be?

_Without losing a piece of me_ __  
_How do I get to heaven?_  
_Without changing a part of me_  
_How do I get to heaven?_  
_All my time is wasted_  
_Feeling like my heart's mistaken, oh_  
_So if I'm losing a piece of me_  
_Maybe I don't want heaven_

Quinn’s voice breaks every time she stumbles upon the word ‘heaven’, and beyond feeling her heart breaking for the cheerleader, Rachel can sense that there’s something more to this, not able to shake the feeling that the song isn’t about Beth.

When Quinn would think or talk about her, her hand would always unconsciously move towards her belly in remembrance, a habit that the girl herself had admitted to Rachel, but there’s none of that right now, and instead, Quinn’s digging her fingernails into her rib so hard it looks like it hurts.

Rachel makes a mental note to talk to the blonde about that, but still, it’s hard to think of anything else with Quinn looking so distraught and weary, as if she’s carrying the world on her shoulders, and the brunette desperately aches to help lift it away.

They might have only been friends for less than a week, but Rachel knows that the connection they have has always been there, just bubbling beneath the pretense of social hierarchies and love triangles, and now they’re finally owning up to it, all of the pieces falling together without the giant misplacement of Finn keeping them apart.

Quinn is sweet and funny and kind, and seeing her look so broken has Rachel almost running out to shield her and whisk her away, but she can tell that whatever the honor-roll student wants to tell them, she has to do it on her own.

The voice in the back of her head, most likely Bi-rry, keeps on nagging her about the meaning of what Quinn’s singing, and an outlandish thought presents itself to her for a second, before her face scrunches and she shakes her head.

Quinn couldn’t be- she isn’t…

No. There’s no way.

_The truth runs wild like the rain to the sea_  
_Trying to set straight the lines that I trace to find some relief_  
_This voice inside has been eating at me  
Trying to embrace the picture I paint and color me free_

But it’s that moment, when Quinn trips over ‘straight’, voice cracking more and more as her mask starts to slip, that Rachel _knows_.

A million thoughts rush to the forefront of her mind at once, fighting for dominance, but the only one that she can properly pick out is pain _for_ Quinn.

Because right then, all those odd one-liners from Kurt, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn make sense now, and she almost cringes at how oblivious she was.

Holy shit, Quinn Fabray is _gay_.

Fitting the homophobic jock and the repressed Christian cliché almost perfectly, Rachel can’t believe how she hadn’t noticed, and even with all the messy thousands running through her mind, the only coherent thing that Rachel can think of is that it must have been extremely hard for Quinn, to grow up in such an oppressive household while having to come to terms with her sexuality and dealing with the pregnancy at the same time.

She knows that there was no possible way that she could’ve done anything more, what with Quinn’s walls mighty tall and all her own stuff going on, but she still feels a sense of failure, like she should’ve reached out more, or tried harder.

But then Quinn, now singing her way through the chorus one last time, starts crying, choking up as she gets to the last few lines of it, and Rachel _hurts_ , a phantom feeling that strikes and pierces through her heart, as if she’s physically trying to take on some of Quinn’s pain to help her through.

She wills the blonde to meet her eyes, and miraculously, it works, misty hazel staring back at chestnut brown.

Quinn looks like she’s trying to find something in her gaze, and Rachel tries with every ounce of emotion she has in her body to convey all the proudness and supportiveness she feels, to make the cheerleader _understand_ how brave and amazing she’s being by doing this.

Quinn evidently finds what she wants to, a sparkle that’s not just tears making its way to her eyes, and she loses it completely, unable to finish the outro of the song as she collapses into tears and strangled sobs that she’s desperately trying to keep in.

Throughout it all, the slushies, the pregnancy, _everything_ , Rachel’s never seen Quinn break down so fully, and the sight makes her chest and stomach lurch violently, screaming at her to do something, but she can’t move.

Neither can the rest of the Gleeks, it seems like, as they just sit in stunned silence at watching the aloof, untouchable Ice Queen of Mckinley let down her walls, not fully sure as to what’s happening and what to do with what they find there.

Time seems to slow down as Rachel tries to grasp onto something, _anything_ , that will make her vision less blurry and her mind less jumbled so that she could go to Quinn and comfort and hold her, and the screeching in her brain is at an all-time high, but it’s like she’s rooted to the spot, feet suddenly forgetting how to move.

“ _The truth runs wild._ ”

She faintly registers Santana and Brittany singing the line for Quinn, standing up, and that’s what prompts her into action, because Quinn _needs_ her right now, and she refuses to let the blonde down. “ _Like a tear down a cheek._ ”

The Gleeks are still out of it, looking between the three of them standing and Quinn trying to stifle her sobs, and Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes at them, focusing on Quinn instead.

The blonde’s chest heaves with abrupt and forceful pants, and for a few seconds, she’s worried that Quinn’s going to have an anxiety attack, and with Brittany and Santana, they collectively send the head Cheerio encouraging looks, bodies already poised to do something if anything goes wrong.

“ _Maybe I don’t want heaven._ ” Quinn finally finishes, the line more like a whisper than a tune, broken and jagged, but Rachel doesn’t remotely care as she practically trips over herself to wrap the taller girl in a bone-crushing hug, gently prying open tightly-clenched pale fingers.

“I’m _so_ proud of you,” she breathes into blonde locks, and she knows that there are a lot of questions that needs to be answered, but right now, all she cares about is _Quinn_ , and she barely feels Brittana joining in the hug as well, both saying their own supporting words.

Quinn shivers beneath them, tears just flowing out of her eyes without stopping, and Rachel clutches on even tighter, trying to provide as much reassurance she can.

Soon enough, shaking arms move to hug her back, grasping on with something that can only be described as desperation and fear, like the blonde is afraid that they’ll leave her.

_Never_ , she vows solemnly. It’s her turn to hold Quinn now, and she’ll gladly fulfill that duty.

Behind them, she can hear the rustle of various glee members moving to join the group hug, not really understanding what’s going on but still knowing that they have to support Quinn, and Rachel suddenly feels a sense of gratefulness, that they had managed to overcome all odds and become a _family_.

It’s a big old mushy group hug, and slowly, she can feel Quinn’s almost-violent quivering slow down as she mummers “You’ll be okay” over and over, and soon, the pale girl is gently pushing away, just slightly so that she can see all of the Gleeks, and Rachel can’t help but feel happy that Quinn had elected to stay in her arms and her arms only, pulling away from everyone else.

It’s probably selfish and immature of her, but she can’t help it, and when Quinn gives her a small smile, she can’t help the way a watery smile of her own appears.

They’re all waiting for the cheerleader to say something, a collective hush upon them, and it’s clear by the looks on the other Gleeks’ faces that they still don’t know what this is about, confused furrowed brows all around.

Quinn emits an unstable breath under their unintentionally scrutinizing eyes, and Rachel squeezes lightly, silently telling her that it’s fine if she doesn’t want to say anything.

The taller girl shakes her head slightly, and the brunette is once again witness to the strong line of Quinn’s smooth jaw, resolutely set as her throat works down a gulp, and she inhales a sharp breath, as if she’s expecting the worst. “I’m…gay.”

Her voice is so cracked the words can barely be made out, and it’s so quiet that if the choir room hadn’t hushed down, even Rachel, in her close proximity, wouldn’t be able to hear it.

But they do, and the almost-gasp that passes through the choir room would almost be funny if it really wasn’t.

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, the motion making Rachel frown, heart aching with the thought that the cheerleader’s been so used to being discarded that the reaction is expected, and she gently nudges her head against the blonde’s, hoping that it’ll be enough to make her at least more at ease.

The silence that envelopes the choir room is probably only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity, and Mercedes is the first to speak, “Oh, _Quinn._ ”

There’s an underlying current of sympathy tracing her voice, and it just makes Quinn burrow deeper into Rachel’s hair, rapid heartbeat felt through their chests pressed against each other.

“Can- Can I go home, please?” Quinn asks, sounding so small and fragile that Rachel feels her heart break and shatter again, and she nods, glaring at the other Gleeks as if daring them to tell her otherwise.

Gently guiding the Cheerio away, she motions for Brittany and Santana to follow, certain that Quinn would want them there for the conversation that’s undoubtedly going to follow, but then they shake their heads at her, and she nods back, knowing that Quinn definitely had planned this beforehand with the two, and if they say that they’re not coming, then they’re not, and that’s perfectly fine, if not a bit terrifying.

Even as they get into Quinn’s car a few minutes later, the blonde insisting that she’s stable enough to drive, Rachel still has a whole host of questions and thoughts running rampant through her mind, but one in particular haunts her, very much inappropriate considering what just happened and yet still making itself known.

If Quinn is gay, then Rachel’s straight-girl excuse is all but gone, and that means she actually has a sho-

_It’s just physical attraction, dammit, and Quinn still has tear-tracks on her face right now, so stop thinking about it, idiot!_ she mentally berates herself.

_But really, just think of all the possibilities now,_ Bi-rry starts scheming, _That ass, those legs, now they’re all attainable, and-_

_Nononononono,_ Rachel can’t help but speed her breathing up, mind now filled with imagery of said ass and legs that are now- _Nope_ , she determinedly bites her lip. _Not happening._

But then she thinks of plump lips and smooth skin and she really, _really_ wants it to happen.

_Bi-rry, fuck you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Heaven by Troye Sivan, and I added an extra ‘Maybe I don’t want heaven’ for the outro, as well as switching around some pronouns. Hope Quinn’s coming out wasn’t too underwhelming lol.


	7. IV. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where we get a road-block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28/9/19: Sneakily replaces this with a slightly improved version of the original non-angsty Chapter Seven. *whistles inconspicuously* Nothin ta see here folks. If you were here before, you know what happened lol, and if you’re new, then well…Enjoy ;p

**IV.**

They spend the next few days in an almost non-stop conversation, with Rachel trying her best to be patient, and Quinn trying her best to open up.

It’s hard keeping her prying questions to herself, and sometimes Quinn gets snappy, but they’re both _trying_ , which is all that matters, and Rachel loves the fact that they get to do this, as if they’ve been best friends for forever.

After she had brought Quinn home that day during Glee, she had held the girl until she wanted to talk, softly singing in an attempt to make her feel better, and soon enough, Quinn had explained things to her with her voice still cracked, looking weary and afraid the entire way through.

In the few days that follow, Quinn talks about growing up under Russell’s thumb, of how his word was law and expected to be followed to the letter, and how she tried her hardest to become ‘straight’ by dating boys to no avail. She talks about how coming out to her mom was one of the hardest things she had ever done, and how she had packed her bags beforehand in case she was kicked out again. She talks about a lot of things, actually, and Rachel does her damn best to listen and support her.

She picks up on a few things during this time, like how the blonde would utterly refuse to say the word lesbian to refer to herself, and on a certain level, she kind of understands, because saying it makes it feel _real_ , and even with all the therapy in the world, that’s still a hurdle that someone has to confront themselves.

She can tell that Quinn’s not telling her everything though, leaving bits and pieces out, but that’s okay.

It just means that she gets to find out those things by herself, getting to prove herself and earn the head Cheerio’s trust piece by piece, and she can’t wait for that day to arrive.

So when her doorbell rings on Monday morning, she grins, full and wide, as she bounces to open the door, and she loops her arm with Quinn’s the second she sees her, the warm weight just feeling _right_ against her.

The taller girl looks significantly brighter, like the sky has been lifted off her shoulders, and while Rachel likes to think that she had a part in taking off a little of it, at the end of the day, she knows that it’s really just all Quinn’s strength that brought them here.

(“Therapy’s awesome,” the blonde had said in reply to that though, and Rachel’s quite inclined to agree. “Everyone should go to therapy and just bitch about their lives.”)

When they walk through the halls and pass by the other Glee kids, they look at Quinn with a mix of newfound respect and care, and it’s clear that while the Cheerio appreciates it, she’s not entirely comfortable with it, and Rachel tries her best to distract her.

Mr. Schue and the Gleeks all give their own touching speeches over the next few days – Kurt, in a Rachel Berry-worthy move, even sheds a proud tear or two – and it seems like things are settling down, Rachel very much happy in her blissful friendship with Quinn.

She really should’ve known not to jinx it, because everything just kinda goes downhill on Wednesday.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

It starts after Glee, when Quinn’s waiting outside for Rachel so they can walk to class together, and the brunette’s wearing some of her new clothes.

“Lookin’ hot, Jew Babe,” Puck calls as he abruptly appears out of nowhere, getting way too close into Rachel’s personal space for her comfort. “So now that these few days you’ve been dressing better, I just realized something.”

Slowly stepping away, she tries to remain unfazed as she tucks her Cheerio jacket – yes, it’s _hers_ now – closer against her frame, already hoping that Quinn will come save her from Puck’s leering gaze and lewd smirk. “And what would that be, Noah?”

At this, the boy starts to smirk even more, and Rachel resists the urge to point out that he’s got nothing on the Fabray sexy smirk & brow™, simply letting him continue wriggling his eyebrows like he’s having a muscle spasm or something. “You’re a Jew, and I’m a Jew, so naturally we’re going to make beautiful Jew babies,” he states as if it’s completely sound logic, and he throws her a crooked grin. “What’dya say, wanna take the Puckasaurus out for a ride?”

Rachel’s nose wrinkles at the taller boy now flexing his biceps at her with a self-assured demeanor, and she steps away even farther, making sure to keep a good distance away.

She’s about to turn him down – _vehemently –_ when Quinn barges in, and she almost breathes a sigh of relief. _Finally_.

The blonde’s protective little gestures have kinda become a _thing_ between them two, and if it was somebody else Rachel probably wouldn’t like it as much as she does, but Quinn somehow makes it seem sweet and genuine, and the diva would be lying if she says that she doesn’t like the flattering attention.

She likes feeling like she matters, like she belongs, and she feels just that when Quinn smoothly slides in, standing in front of Rachel with her hip cocked in her signature HBIC pose.

“ _What_ are you doing?” she glares.

“I was just asking my Jew Princess here if she’d like to take Puck junior for a spin,” Pucks leers in response, relatively unafraid of the head Cheerio’s wrath. “You’d be more than welcome to join in Baby Mama, it’d be so hot watching you two smash.”

“Don’t call me or her that,” Quinn snaps, eyes narrowed, and Rachel bundles even closer to the blonde’s back, enjoying the way that her muscles are flexing with each move.

As Quinn and Puck argue back and forth, Rachel’s pretty much loses where they’re even at in the conversation within ten seconds, too entranced by Quinn’s jawline shifting as it clenches and unclenches.

It’s during this time that Rachel realizes that Quinn always positions her body just so that she blocks the sight of the brunette from whoever she’s defending her from, as if she’s shielding her, and it’s with this epiphany that she feels a wave of adoration crash against her heart, swelling with affection.

“Look, the bottom line here is that she’s not interested, and I’m _definitely_ not interested, so leave us the fuck alone,” Quinn’s voice rings out finally, “Or the only spin Puck junior is going to take is in the blender instead.”

It’s spoken with a final and resolute tone, and with a roll of his eyes, Puck gives up. “Fine, but lemme just ask Rachel one more thing,” he says as he tries to get a better look at her (and ultimately fails). “Wanna go to the party on Friday I’m holding?”

It comes as a surprise to her, and she tries to figure out his angle, because really, who in their right mind would invite _Rachel Berry_ to a party?

Even though she hasn’t been called demeaning names or been Slushied in forever, Quinn’s influence very far-reaching, the little girl inside of her that craves popularity and acceptance is still very much there, so and when she comes up blank, a familiar shift in her heart takes a hold of her, and her mind starts whirling.

Quinn wouldn’t mind just one Calc Friday being skipped, right?

The blonde knows how much she _needs_ acceptance, how much she wants to feel like she’s not at the bottom of the barrel, so she would understand if Rachel wanted to have that, if only for a little while, wouldn’t she?

But even with that settled in her mind, she can’t shake the bottoming feeling building up in her chest, telling her that she’s in over her head again. Still…the prospect of it is too alluring not to ignore, because she got invited to a _party_!

She starts thinking about what clothes she’ll wear, and what cool slang she’ll say when she gets there and officially have an _in_ with the popular kids, and her heart speeds up, taking over what the voice in her head is saying.

“Sure,” she replies in a light tone, and she tries her best to ignore the way Quinn tenses, a quiet hitch of her breath.

This is going to make her popular, and Quinn can’t possibly begrudge her for that, can she?

But when after Puck leaves with a satisfied smirk and the Cheerio turns to her with a tight smile, she can’t help the feeling of dread building up in her stomach. Quinn’s face is set in a hard line, and she hisses, “ _Why_ , exactly are you going to his party?”

The accusative tone sets Rachel on guard immediately, the need to always be right pushing everything else away from her mindset, and she straightens. “We can just go to his party tomorrow instead of hanging out like we usually do, it’s not a big deal,” she defends.

As Quinn’s face scrunches up in frustration, Rachel fully expects the blonde to fight back with some scathing words – Quinn’s so far warm and caring attitude has to come to an end _eventually_ , right? – and so she gears herself up for a fight as well, tensing.

But Quinn doesn’t snap back at her with angry and cutting words.

It’s so much worse.

The blonde simply shakes her head, her walls evidently building themselves up like no else, and Rachel notices that she’s digging her fingernails into her skin, and that’s when she knows that something’s severely fucked up.

That only happens when the girl is really stressed out, and the diva’s warning sense pings like crazy, even though she’s still confused as to why Quinn is making such a big deal of all this.

“It's fine,” Quinn finally says, face blank, and it just sends another pang at Rachel’s heart, hating how the entire situation had seemed to get blown way out of proportion. “But you can just go alone, I just realized that I have something to do anyway.” Taking in a breath and turning to leave, she adds, “And I got a text from Santana that said Sylvester wanted something from me, so you're going to have to walk yourself to class.”

Both are blatant lies, and Rachel's stomach sinks lower, a nauseous feeling starting to consume her.

What the fuck did she just do?

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Quinn is well-mannered the rest of the day, driving her home as per usual, but she never directly talks to her, and all of Rachel’s attempts to speak or apologize to her merely result in monosyllabic answers.

It’s driving her fucking crazy.

She shouldn’t be feeling this guilty. She shouldn’t. Really, she should be mad instead, what right did Quinn have to be throwing a tantrum over something like this?

But she can’t help but replay the hurt look that had momentarily flashed acrossed the blonde’s face over and over again during the awkwardly silent car ride back home. Quinn had looked so sad, so _betrayed_ , that Rachel squirms in her seat at the thought of it.

When the Cheerio doesn’t even acknowledge her or walk her to her door, she feels her heart clench, chest squeezing and expanding at the same time, and she seems to forget how to breathe. It’s not at all like the airy feeling she gets when Quinn smiles at her, it’s dark and weighty instead, and her lungs burn with a need.

She contemplates just continuing her way up the path to her house like nothing’s happened, but she can’t, a boiling urge in her _everything_ needing her to fix this, _somehow_ , because it feels like they’re _fighting_ , and Rachel quickly decides that she doesn’t like it.

It sends a strange ache to her heart, using the term fighting like they’re somehow _dating_ , but they’re not, and the thought makes Rachel’s throat close up for some reason, as if she actually wishes it was true. She shuts that down immediately, knowing that she would _not_ be able to handle opening that can of worms at the moment, and she tries her best to keep calm.

Nibbling the inside of her lip, she turns around to face Quinn, who’s obstinately refusing to look at her. “Will- Will you come pick me up tomorrow?” she asks.

“Gee, I don’t know, why don’t you go ask Puck?” the blonde snipes sharply, a venom to her voice that the singer hasn’t heard in a while, and she flinches, huddling closer against herself.

Quinn notices – because no matter what, the taller girl is _always_ watching and listening, Rachel knows – and she visibly softens, though her posture is still tensed, defenses raised as high as the Empire State Building.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’ll…I’ll be there.”

When Rachel watches Quinn’s car drive away, she really shouldn’t feel like crying as much as she does.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

If she thinks that the next day will be better, she’s dead wrong, because it’s somehow _worse_ , and it feels like there’s a perpetual sting in her eyes throughout the entire day.

After driving her to school, Quinn tells her that she can’t eat lunch with her that day, before practically fleeing as far away as she can, and the blonde doesn’t even show up to Glee, all trace of her erased and gone.

Now that they’re not attached to the hip everywhere they go, the whispers in the hallways about how _Quinn Fabray finally dumped Rachel Berry’s pathetic behind_ resonate loudly in her ears, adding to her already stormy mood, but thankfully, beyond a few sneers and smug smirks at her directions, the jocks don’t do anything else, perhaps still afraid of Quinn’s mortarium.

Kurt tries his best to get something out of her, but she stays silent the entire day, too wrapped up in her miserable gloom to even sing a solo during Glee, and when Puck walks her way afterwards, she stomps off without a word, because as far as she’s concerned, this is all his fault.

If he hadn’t come over to invite her to his party, she wouldn’t have been tempted and reverted back to ‘obsessive-Rachel’ mode, and now Quinn wouldn’t be mad at her, and the brunette wouldn’t have to feel so damn guilty!

Actually, scratch that, it’s Quinn’s fault too – it's literally only one Calc Friday being missed, the Cheerio’s totally making a fuss out of nothing and not caring about Rachel's needs at all, it's her who should be feeling bad, really, and not the diva, okay?

Deep down, Rachel knows that it’s really her own fault for not talking it out with Quinn instead beforehand. What makes it even worse is that Quinn hadn’t even blown up at her, which just confirms that Rachel’s insecurities were all for nothing, and she had just ruined everything instead.

But still, she doesn’t understand why Quinn's so worked up about this. It’s not like she’s cancelling their hang-outs forever – she’d rather die first, on the contrary – and yet the blonde is acting like it's the end of the world, and Rachel has no idea as to why.

But what she _does_ know, is that she misses her arm being looped with Quinn’s, snuggly fitting together, and she misses talking with the girl, moments feeling empty without a well-timed quip or quirked brow.

She misses _Quinn_.

It’s at that moment, during her heartfelt rendition of _Hopelessly Devoted to You_ in the auditorium after school, that the realization truly sinks into her, and without a thought, she marches to the field, the only thing in her mind being that she needs to _fix_ this, her friendship with the head Cheerio too precious to her for her to throw away like this.

When she gets there, the Cheerios look as if they’ve just finished practice, and she spots Brittany and Santana limping their way to the showers, with no Quinn in sight.

Frowning as she jogs to catch up with them, she asks, “Where’s Quinn?”

She expects a lot of things, but after all this time, Santana snarling at her with irritation isn’t one of them, and taken aback, she flinches as a memory surfaces. _You hurt Quinn, I hurt you._

She winces. _Oh_. It must show on her face, because the Latina scowls with a ferocity that Rachel hasn’t seen aimed at her in a long time. “Yeah, _oh_ ,” she deadpans, “Because of _you_ , Quinn had us running suicides for hours, and she got unfocused enough to fall off the pyramid, I swear, the second I can feel my legs again you are going down like-”

“Wait, she _fell off the pyramid_?” Rachel astonishes, all the self-preservation in her body transforming into mother-hen like concern.

At this, Santana seems to reel in her anger, if only a little, and she grunts her confirmation, looking awfully like she’s trying not to care.

“Is she okay?” Rachel practically screeches, glancing around futilely as if Quinn would suddenly pop up out of nowhere. “Where is she, why aren’t you with her, I can’t believe-”

“Hold up, I’m the one supposed to be fuming right now, her mom came to pick her up already,” Santana cuts her off, face back to annoyed, and she mutters, “It’s your fault she fell off anyways.”

The accusation is like a sucker punch to the gut, and Rachel feels the air leave her as she takes in a sharp breath, the words rushing through her like liquid ice. She ducks her head, suddenly feeling like crying with her stomach filled with bile, and she stumbles back a step, nibbling on her lip numbly as her eyes glaze over.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Brittany speaks up, shooting a hard glance at Santana that causes the Latina to look away stubbornly, and the tall blonde turns to Rachel, addressing, “It wasn’t your fault, Rach, and Santi knows that.”

After a sharp jab to her stomach from Brittany. Santana looks away with a scowl. “Fine, Q falling like Humpty Dumpty ain’t the midget’s fault, but my aching legs are, fucking puta.”

It doesn’t make Rachel feel any less gloomy, but it lessens the ache somewhat, and she asks again, “Is-Is she fine?”

Santana looks as if she’s going to make another snarky remark, but then Brittany cuts in with a warning glance, stern in a way that she’s never really seen on the blonde.

“San, how ‘bout you go get the car so we can drive Rachie home?” she suggests, though it’s clear that it really isn’t a suggestion, and when Santana reluctantly trudges off, the tall cheerleader turns back to Rachel, pausing for a few seconds, as if she’s contemplating what to do. She finally says, “You really hurt Quinn.”

Rachel knows that it would come eventually, because she _did_ , but she still recoils at the words, hunching into herself. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt the head cheerleader, but that was what exactly she had done, and the confirmation strikes painfully at her chest.

“But then again,” Brittany says with a glint in her eye, “I think that Quinn hurt you too, but I can’t speak for you, so I’m going to be Quinn’s unibicorn instead.”

Scrunching up her brow, Rachel doesn’t even attempt to decode what the tall blonde had just said, letting her continue, “You wanted to have your cat and pet it too, so Q thought that she wasn't enough for you and got smad, and since you two are like bears and don’t talk, you also ended up getting hurt.”

“She thought that she wasn’t enough for me?” Rachel’s voice lifts in bemusement. “But she's got it all wrong, she's the best friend I've ever had, why would she think that?”

It seems like that's the confirmation that Brittany’s been waiting for, and an understanding look dawns on her face. “Did you know that accepting Puck’s invitation means that you’re going as his date?”

“But-But I thought that he does that for everyone…” Rachel stammers, infuriated that Puck had omitted that particular piece of information.

The taller girl shakes her head. “Everyone on the Cheerios and football team is always automatically invited, with a plus-one.”

“…She thought that I’d rather go with Noah than with her,” Rachel deduces finally with horror, feeling worse with every breath. “But I don’t! I’d take going with Quinn over him any day, it was just that I didn’t think due to my insecurities about not being popular enough!”

“And so now you both think that you’re more in the wrong and now Quinn thinks you hate her for overreacting,” Brittany shrugs.

“But why would I hate her, she’s been nothing but nice to me, and really, it should be her that's hating me, I-”

“Both of you are idiots that don’t think,” the blonde cuts her off, the words ringing true inside Rachel’s ears as she huddles into herself.

“But I don’t hate her at all, and I certainly didn’t mean to imply I’d take Noah over her,” she whispers miserably, only now understanding.

“Does she know that?” Brittany asks, and when the brunette is unable to reply, she tilts her head with a knowing look. “You both messed up,” she says.

Rachel mournfully sighs. “I know.”

“But that’s okay though; people mess up all the time,” the tall blonde shrugs, and a twinkle makes its way to her eyes. “You just have to ask yourself what you’re going to do about it.”

The words settle across Rachel’s skin like the plain truth it is, and she swallows. “You’re…You’re really smart, Brittany.”

“That’s what San tells me,” the ditzy cheerleader beams.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

After she’s been informed that Quinn’s not severely injured and she’s gotten her still worried-sick mind to calm, Rachel has the strong urge to head straight to Quinn’s doorstep and belt out _Hello_ by Adele or something equally as outrageously dramatic.

Somehow, she doesn’t think the blonde would appreciate it, so she settles on baking her patented ‘I’m Sorry’ Cookies instead, throwing in an ‘I’m Sorry’ pie to go along with it too, putting extra bacon on top.

She had wanted to bake both of them the next morning so they’d be fresh, but there’s simply not enough time, and she frowns regrettably as she prepares the pie beforehand, catching the attention of Hiram.

“Baby, come look at this,” he calls out to Leroy, “Our lovely daughter is baking ‘I’m Sorry’ goodies, and it’s with the _pie_ this time!”

Coming out from the hallway and leaning against the doorframe, Leroy chuckles dryly. “The pie? Oh, she must’ve done something _really_ bad. Who’s the poor soul this time?”

“I’ll have you know that Quinn should be honored to be witness to my baking skills,” Rachel huffs and turns her head sharply, flipping her hair as she puts the pie in the oven. “And while I do believe that in regards to our little fall-out, I am not the only one in the wrong here, but I can admit that I am more at fault and quite honestly, I miss Quinn, so I’ve decided to reach out an olive branch by way of baked delicacies.”

Leroy blinks a few times, and he shakes his head in amusement. “Wow, I haven’t heard a ramble like that in a while.”

“I know!” Hiram practically bounces on the soles of his feet, before frowning slightly. “I do hope that Quinn will prove to have better conversational skills than that Flint boy you dated.”

“Flynn,” Leroy corrects with a shit-eating grin that isn’t fooling anyone. “And I’m pretty sure Rachel mentioned that she was on the honor-roll or something.”

“Shoo-in for valedictorian next year,” Rachel brags with a proud smile, chest already contracting at how much she misses the blonde but still always happy to boast for Quinn’s many achievements.

Coming to think of it, she had always been quite inclined to gush about the blonde, even way back during freshman year, and there’s probably something to be learnt from that line of thought, but thankfully ( _or not_ , Bi-rry snorts), Leroy cuts in with a snap of his fingers. “Wait, is that who you’ve been hanging out with an awful lot these two weeks?”

Rachel’s blush and bashful smile is answer enough, and Hiram’s mouth tilts up excitedly. “Is there something you want to tell us, Rachel?”

It takes a moment for the question to sink in fully, but when it does, Rachel blushes like a tomato, spluttering, “I- I don’t have _romantic_ feelings for Quinn Fabray!”

“What, so you have _other_ feelings for her?” Leroy catches her slip-up, an eyebrow quirked (and damn, that reminder of Quinn just sends another pang through her heart). “Other, more hormone-induced feelings, perhaps?”

If it’s even possible, Rachel flushes an even deeper shade of red, and she mutters, “Well, she’s just _really_ pretty, okay?”

“Pictures, now!” Hiram demands in a squeal, “I find it highly unacceptable that we know so little about her, and we have to rectify that, so spill every detail about her!”

Bit disturbed that her fathers are so nosy – Quinn’s just her _friend_ , dammit – Rachel tries to make a grab for her phone, residing on the tabletop, but Hiram gets to it first, and he holds it high above his head to keep it out of her reach as he guesses the password.

_Hah_ , Rachel smugly smirks, _there’s no way they’ll guess her password, what with all the measures I’ve taken and-_

“ShiningStarIngénue1218, really Rachel?” her daddy laughs, earning a snort from Leroy as he motions the shorter man to let him see.

“Oh, what’s this, your text messages with Quinn?” the black man gasps theatrically. “Wonder what we’ll find here.”

Chortling, he reads the last few texts aloud while Rachel frantically tries to get back her phone, jumping up to no avail.

**Rachel:** _Santana was mean again today :(_

**Quinn:** _lol what did she do this time?_

**Rachel:** _She called Streisand overrated!!!_

**Quinn:** _…You’ll live_

**Rachel:** _I hope you’re aware that I’m pouting like crazy right now._

**Quinn:** _And I hope you’re aware that I only adhere to that pout because you’re so damn cute when you’re doing it_

**Quinn:** _And since you’re not here in person, its effect is rendered useless, so ha!_

**Rachel:** _*picture of her pouting on her bed*_

**Rachel:** _I wish I could be there_ :(

**Quinn:** _Aww, I miss you too Rae_

**Rachel:** _Bet I miss you more *heart*_

**Quinn:** _As much as I’d love to start a never-ending thread of ‘miss-you’s_

**Quinn:** _It’s midnight, and while I can function on two hours perfectly fine, you can’t_

**Quinn:** _And I’d rather not deal with your puppy look for the entirety of tomorrow :p_

**Rachel:** _You can just say that you care, Quinn._

**Rachel:** _Denial is a very serious issue, you know._

**Quinn:** _Yeah, yeah, talk to the shrink instead_

**Quinn:** _But seriously, night Superstar_

**Quinn:** _The star lighting up my sky, your heavenly voice will sing me to sleep as always :)_

**Rachel:** _I swear, one day you’ll kill me with all your sweetness, but I concur._

**Rachel:** _Goodnight, Quinn._

“Oh my god that’s so cute!” Hiram practically screeches, but Rachel just stares, suddenly overwhelmed with an intense longing for the head Cheerio.

She’s made up her mind to make it up to Quinn, but what if the blonde had finally realized that she wasn’t worth it?

The thought sends a tangible pain through her heart, and she feels heavier than before, a weight holding her chest down as her throat closes up, tightening.

Her friendship with Quinn has quickly progressed to become one of the most important things in Rachel’s life, and the fact that she may never get to hear Quinn’s beautifully-crafted words again makes her choke up, the mere prospect of it frightening her to a degree that she really shouldn’t be, and she can only watch as her fathers skim through her photo gallery until they find a folder titled ‘Quinn :)’ and tap on a picture where Rachel and Quinn are in a selfie together, Quinn wearing glasses and dressed in a hoodie as she beams at the brunette rather than the camera.

They quickly swipe through more, and Rachel’s heart drops more and more with each one. No matter what, the blonde’s smile is always beaming bright, and no matter how irrational it may be, Rachel can’t bear the thought of never seeing it aimed at her again, chest already clenching with the desire to hear Quinn’s adorable little laugh lighting the air once more.

She doesn’t notice that she’s crying – dramatic being that she is – until Hiram notices, and he worriedly asks, “Honey, are you okay? Did we go too far, I’m sorry, we were just curious-”

“No- No, I’m fine,” Rachel hurriedly wipes away her tears. “I just- Well, what if Quinn’s finally realized that I’m not worth it?”

She curls into herself instinctively as she says it, feeling like the annoying and loud-mouthed argyle-clad little girl that took daily Slushy baths, and it takes Leroy placing his hands on her shoulders firmly for her to snap out of it.

“You’re perfect, okay sweetie? Absolutely perfect.” He resolutely looks into her eyes, a hard gleam there that she knows isn’t aimed at her. “You’re amazing and talented and kind, and this girl _adores_ you, Rachel! I mean, in every single one of these pictures, she’s smiling at _you_ , not the camera, and even if you messed up, there’s no way she wouldn’t see past that, because you’re _worth it_ , and if she doesn’t think so, then maybe she’s not the person you think she is.”

The words hit Rachel like whiplash, and she sucks in a sharp breath, before slowly exhaling. “Okay,” she breathes out. “I’m- I’m worth it, and I’m going to show Quinn that. I’m worth it.”

“Good,” Hiram smiles, and as his look turns into something else that the diva is all too familiar with, she tries to keep the unsettle in her stomach at bay, knowing that she’s definitely about to get embarrassed.

“So now that that’s settled, can we just talk about the bone structure that this girl has on her, like, just look at her!” He grins as his eyes shine with mirth. “I’m as gay as Kurt, but I can still totally understand why you’d like her, her porcelain skin is impeccable, she’s like every Goddess of beauty ever rolled up into one, no wonder you have the hots for her!”

At this point, Rachel’s tear-streaked face is replaced with a deep red hue, and it only gets worse when Leroy nods his head solemnly. “Now, while you know that our household is a very open one and you two don’t have the necessary appendages, we still expect you to practice safe-”

“Fathers, I must stress again that our relationship is straightly _platonic_ , okay?” Rachel stammers, coloring like she always does at the mention of Quinn (and the thought of them doing… _stuff_ ), “I- I simply just admire her very much, and- and I-”

“Want her to bang your brains out?” Leroy guesses.

Rachel groans.


	8. IV. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Faberry becomes happy again and Rachel takes another step out the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 28/9/19: Sneakily replaces this with a slightly improved version of the original non-angsty Chapter Eight. *whistles inconspicuously* Nothin ta see here folks. If you were here before, you know what happened lol, and if you’re new, then well…Enjoy ;p

The next morning, when she’s just finished with her ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, taking them out of the oven to put them next to the reheated pie, she hears the doorbell ring, and she frowns, since she’s pretty sure that Quinn’s staying home today to rest up. Maybe one of her fathers forgot something at home?

Taking off her oven-mitts and placing them to the side, she opens the door, brain already running through a checklist of what her fathers could’ve possibly missed, and she’s utterly unprepared for the bundle of Gardenias shoved at her, even more so to see Quinn.

The blonde’s face is flushed and apologetic, with a deer-in-headlights look, and there’s a beat where they just stare at each other, as if not quite sure what to say.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” Quinn finally blurts out, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I’m sorry for ignoring you and being an asshole, and I’m sorry for everything else that happened and in between, I-”

It seems as if Quinn is about to go on a long tirade, but Rachel manages to tear her eyes away from the Gardenias now cradled in her chest, and she snaps out of her shocked stupor with a decisive shake of her head.

“What? I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she says, brain running into overdrive as she tries to comprehend what’s happening and organize the jumbled mess of her thoughts. “I got insecure and jealous, reverting to the worst part of me and thinking that going to the party with Noah would somehow make me _popular_ , and I didn’t think that agreeing to him meant that I was agreeing to be his date, and-”

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

When Rachel hesitantly nods, a flash of pain shows clearly on Quinn’s face, and she turns pale. “Rachel, I’m _so_ sorry,” she apologizes almost frantically. “I thought you knew, I totally overreacted and thought that you wanted to go with Puck over me, and I got irrationally angry even though really you’re just too good for me.”

“No, I was the one that didn’t think things through or pay enough attention.” Rachel shakes her head. “And _you’re_ the one who’s too good for me.”

“Don’t be silly Rachel,” Quinn dismisses, “And plus, it’s my fault that I got short with you instead of talking it out, and if I didn’t bully you back then, you wouldn’t have felt insecure and-”

“Quinn,” Rachel stops the blonde with a firm tone. “How many times have I told you that you have to stop feeling guilty about that?”

The honor-roll student standing on her doorstep looks away, before mumbling half-ashamed and half-scowling, “Miraculously, probably even less than my shrink has.”

“Guess that means that I’ll have to say it more then,” Rachel jokes as she recognizes the slightly embarrassed look that crosses Quinn’s face like every time they bring up her therapy, and she gently nudges Quinn’s foot to get the blonde to look at her, hoping to convey all the compassion and contrite she feels through her gaze. “Do you think that I should feel endlessly guilty about telling Finn about Beth’s true parentage?”

When Quinn says ‘No’ immediately, dismissing it like it’s simply absurd, the diva shoots the other girl a look, and she watches as a reluctant understanding makes its grudging way to Quinn’s face, before the blonde sighs in acquiescence.

She knows that easing Quinn from her guilt won’t be easy, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, so Rachel will take what she can get, the thought solidifying itself in her heart resolutely. Now that they’ve seemed to made amends, it’s like her heart is freer, and she finally _breathes_. The fact that it’s Friday suddenly flashes to her, and she bites the inside of her lips as she trills, “I’ve canceled things with Noah already, so…would you be adverse to watching movies with me tonight like usual?”

No matter how hard she tries, she’s unable to keep the hopeful lift out of her voice, and when Quinn keeps her poker face up, the brunette panics and starts to ramble, “Because really, between our lunches and after-school hangouts, you’ve basically taught me the entire math curriculum, and I know that I still have to repay you for helping me so much, I-”

“How about a sleepover instead?” Quinn finally weighs in, and Rachel shuts her mouth immediately, allowing herself to fully soak in the words (and remind herself of the existence of her ‘I’m Sorry’ goodies).

“Of course,” Rachel beams, ignoring the voice that is telling her that this is going to end in disaster, what with her crus- _physical attraction_ to the blonde, and she asks, rather timidly, “So can we just both agree that we forgive each other?”

A beat passes, somehow feeling like an eternity, and when Quinn breathes out a quiet but breathy “Yeah”, the relief that settles upon the air around them is unmistakable, and it makes Rachel unable to hold in a smile, stretching across her face uncontrollably as a light giddiness fills her heart.

She’s about to usher the cheerleader in to sample her pie and cookies, of course after a thorough check-up that Quinn’s okay after her tumble down the pyramid yesterday, when Quinn adorns a shy look, a faint blush around her cheeks, and she pushes something that she’s been hiding behind her back towards the brunette as she murmurs, “Just one more thing.”

Rachel bites her lip in curiosity, but then she takes in the old but well-kept profile of the black journal now in her hand, a small golden encrusted ‘I’ in the upper middle, and she realizes that this is first of the journals she saw on Quinn’s desk that first Calc Friday.

Her mouth slightly drops open, and she wants to ask the head Cheerio if she’s sure, if she’s actually comfortable with sharing whatever is in that journal and not just feeling an obligation out of guilt, but all she can do is stare at Quinn in bewilderment, and the blonde mutters in a nervous tone, “Just…read it when you’re alone, please.”

Swallowing, Rachel nods, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to hug Quinn, to _touch_ , and she does just that, enveloping the girl in her arms and breathing in the warmth and comfort that she’s deeply missed, the pure euphoria causing her to close her eyes and sigh out in bliss.

_Fuck, she’s missed this,_ missed _Quinn_ , but then the girl lets out a pained groan, and the brunette pulls away in alarm, eyes widening when she sees where Quinn’s shirt had shifted a big angry purple bruise.

The reminder of Quinn’s fall rushes to the forefront of Rachel’s mind immediately, and she squeaks guiltily, “I am _so_ sorry, Quinn!”

She doesn’t give her time for a reply before she’s piloting the other girl into the house with all other thoughts temporarily pushed to the side, and she puts the Gardenias and journal on her desk when they get to her room, ordering, “Strip the long-sleeved shirt.”

“Uh, not that I’m complaining, but isn’t this too early in our relationship to be U-hauling this quick?” the blonde teases, but Rachel doesn’t have the patience to dwell on niceties or the fact that she’s going to see Quinn half-naked, too worried to care, so she simply tugs the long-sleeved shirt off the Cheerio hurriedly but gently.

When she sees the extent of the bruising on the honor-roll student’s left side and the bandaged forearm that she’s sporting, Rachel can’t help but feel a twinge (okay, maybe a lot) of guilt pierce at her heart even though she knows that it’s not her fault, and she frowns, hating the wince that’s on Quinn’s face.

“I’m getting some painkillers and cream for you,” she abruptly says in a decisive tone, turning around to head downstairs. “And I’m making you soup.”

There’s silence for a beat, but then Quinn points out, “You’re going to be late for school.”

That causes a falter in her step, but she disregards it without a second though as she nods her head resolutely, continuing her march.

Quinn is infinitely more important than a perfect attendance.

Right before she opens the door, she hears the blonde chuckle, tone filled with adoration and something that the diva’s been hearing increasingly frequently, but yet is still unable to place, much to her chagrin. “I’ll have Santana on it.”

“Oh thank god,” Rachel breathes, unable to stop her sheepish smile at Quinn’s full-blown laugh.

She’s slightly embarrassed by her perfectionist and sometimes obsessive tendencies, but _god_ if she hadn’t missed that laugh, because it’s only been two days, but hearing it is like her first gulp of water after ages in the desert, finally able to feel the sensation wash over her, and she instantly craves to hear more of it, _needs_.

Maybe she’s being dramatic – which she’ll admit that it’s a quality that she’s prone to – but there’s just _something_ about Quinn’s laugh that always catches her off-guard just where it swells the most, weighing on her chest with a feeling that she can’t quite describe, and she shakes the thoughts away as she starts to boil the soup, taking the cookies and pie up back to her room.

When Quinn, already back in a shirt thankfully ( _or not_ , Bi-rry grumbles), sees her juggling all three in her hands, she rises to help her without a beat, a small smile quirking on the blonde’s lips at the sight, and Rachel flashes a slightly embarrassed grin. “My famous ‘I’m Sorry’ cookies, and an ‘I’m Sorry’ pie too.”

“Rae, you didn’t have to do this.” The taller girl frowns cutely, but Rachel doesn’t care.

Because hearing Rae fall from Quinn’s full pink lips once again is just pure bliss and really, she might just be a teensy, _tiny_ bit in love with her- her enunciation.

Yes, she’s in love with the Cheerio’s enunciation of the syllable, and nothing more, simply with how Quinn rolls her tongue when she says it, the vibration coming through in her signature husky low alto, and she feels quite resolute in that decision, but then suddenly, Rachel gets a really strong urge to press her lips to the other girl’s throat to feel just _how_ the vibrations resonate, and she flushes a deep red immediately, trying her best to keep calm as she shoots back, “Well, _you_ didn’t have to get me flowers either.”

Quinn raises a brow at her abruptly red face, which just _ugh_ , sends more tingles _down there_ , but thankfully doesn’t comment, simply nodding her head. “Touché.”

With nothing else to settle, they dig into their food in a comfortable silence, and as soon as Quinn bites into her slice of pie, the blonde lets out a low groan, not helping Rachel’s… _situation_ at all. “God, Rae, it’s _so good_.”

It doesn’t take much for Rachel’s brain to twist that borderline sinful sentence into another context, and her breath lifts, stopping right at her throat, and she’s at once immensely grateful that Quinn is happily munching into her pie, blissfully unaware of the chaos that she had just unleased by that one simple sentence, Rachel’s face flaring up to an even more impossibly red hue.

Really, Quinn has no idea just how much power she holds, able to have everyone tripping over themselves to fall to their feet before her without even so much as to a mere glance wasted.

But then Rachel sees a small wry smirk coat pink plump lips, and well, okay, maybe Quinn _does_ know after all.

It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing indeed.

The implications of that – of Quinn knowing how much she makes the brunette ache and possibly _enjoy_ it – rise up immediately to the forefronts of her mind, but there’s just no way, and she shakes off the somewhat wistful thought.

Quinn might be a lesbian, but the perfectly imperfect Cheerio would never feel a thing for fashion-hazard school loser _Rachel Berry_ , and continuing that line of thought will only end in hurt and heartbreak.

Even though Rachel’s attraction to the honor-roll student is strictly platonic and, ahem, _physical_ …and she actually hasn’t have the school loser for quite a while due to Quinn warding her off, and she’s been dressing better as well now that her closets of plaid and argyle have all been swapped out ( _also_ due to Quinn) though a few of her plaid skirts and sweaters were kept at the blonde’s instance – Rachel was surprisingly eager to get rid of them after being imparted some well-needed fashion knowledge – saying that they looked ‘ cute’ on her, and really, Quinn hasn’t shown any indication as to-

Nope.

_Not doing this_.

Her increasingly contradicting thoughts are put to an end as Quinn finishes wolfing down her slice of pie, reaching out to cut off another piece, but then the painful sound of muscles popping out of place rings out, Quinn unable to suppress a wince, and Rachel shoots up in alarm without a beat to inspect the girl immediately, practically fawning over Quinn in her worry.

“It’s fine,” the Cheerio tries to assure her, though her fake show-face isn’t fooling no one and they both know it. “I’m only a bit sore and the scratching on my forearm is nothing; Sylvester had us go through worse.”

Any thoughts of how crazy Sylvester is or how terrible it was for Quinn to go through that is banished when she’s reminded of the blonde’s bruising, and she almost-screeches, “Quinn Fabray, don’t tell me that you drove here with your injuries!”

“My mom dropped me off, I swear.” The taller girl raises her hands up defensively, “And we can walk to my place later.”

Letting the girl off the hook for now, Rachel relaxes, if only because of Quinn’s nothing but adorable display of still eagerly chomping down on her cookies even with her hands still up while talking, the childish action so unlike the normally elegant and put-together blonde that it makes her giggle, heart glazing over with a warm haze that has her beaming.

Quinn notices, and in a few seconds of time, she’s wiped away all traces of crumbs, scrambling to a respectable position with her hands and legs demurely crossed as she dons a guilty look, mumbling with her head to the floor, “Sorry.”

It takes a few moments for it to fully load in Rachel’s brain, but when it does, she realizes that Quinn’s obviously been _groomed_ for this, to keep in this perfect primp and proper hostess persona twenty-four-seven, and the epiphany burns a hole in her chest.

It takes a lot for her to hate someone – hate is a strong word, after all – but she’s never hated anyone more than Russell Fabray in that moment.

It’s why she finds herself blurting out, “I’ll bring you bacon or pie or cookies or whatever you want on Fridays.” Rapidly blinking, she exhales, voice turning soft. “Just…promise me you’ll never apologize for anything like that _ever_ again.”

Quinn’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief and awe with her cheeks lightly tinted in embarrassment, and Rachel meets her eyes without hesitation, an unbending _need_ for the blonde to know, to _understand_ how much she means to her, that she’s doing this because she cares and not because she pities her, or because she feels guilty for what had happened yesterday.

Evidently, the honor-roll student finds what she’s looking for, and soon, a small but grateful smile lights up her face, causing Rachel’s heart to flutter like every time she’s graced with it, and she’s wholly unprepared for Quinn standing up and sauntering closer.

Even more so when she feels the light pressure of soft lips on her cheek only a moment later, and the breath is taken out of her, willingly given to the angel that stands before her.

“Thank you,” Quinn breathes out lightly, and the warm breath puffs against Rachel’s cheek almost surreally.

A beat passes, and then, miraculously, she manages, “I’ll…go get you some massage cream for your shoulder.”

Thankfully, the blonde doesn’t seem offended by her lackluster reply – is that a _smirk_? – and she simply quirks her signature half-smile.

Rachel retreats out of the room before the most-likely flirty comment can escape Quinn’s oh-so-kissable lips, and the fleeting feeling of soft lips follows her all the way to when she heads into the bathroom.

It’s when she reaches a hand up to touch that same spot when it really sinks in.

She nearly faints right then and there.

Quinn Fabray kissed her.

_Quinn fucking Fabray kissed her_ , she was kissed by Quinn fucking Fabray, Quinn. Kiss. Her.

Well, only on the cheek, but those three words bounce around her head over and over again, and she adamantly refuses to think about the butterflies in her stomach and the beaming smile on her face.

It’s only physical attraction, Rachel. Physical attraction, and nothing less.

Though, that doesn’t explain the fact that her grin is threatening to spilt her face, and that giddy airiness in her heart- _Fuck off Bi-rry, I don’t need you right now._

_Yeah, I guess you don’t_ , the voice agrees with her for once in her life, and Rachel is instantly on guard. _I mean, you just scored yourself a total feel when you suggested that massage! I can’t believe I’m saying – well,_ thinking _– this, but I’m proud of you, you little minx!_

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

_I should’ve known you’d freak out when it finally caught up to you,_ Bi-rry groans. _What happened to the scheming, opportunistic, and sometimes obsessive Rachel Berry that chased after Finn?_

_She resulted in the fight we had yesterday, and that’s exactly why she should be kept locked up in a box!_ she hisses back, not even caring at this point that she’s basically talking to herself. _Rachel Berry pre-junior year was crazy, and well…Quinn deserves more than that._

_Oh?_ She can practically imagine Bi-rry’s brow quirk up in interest. _So you admit that you have feelings for her, and you want to woo her with one of your grand gestures?_

_What? No!_ she flushes immediately – oh god, this is so stupid, blushing at her own fucking thoughts, why is this happening to her? _I’m simply talking about the moral implications about giving Quinn a massage, especially with my attract-_ physical _attraction to her, and I certainly do not have a crush on her! It’s just that she deserves more than-_

_Yeah yeah cut the crap Berry, I’ll entertain you in denial-land a bit more, but bottom line is that you’re giving Quinn a massage, like it or not, so now you’re going to have to deal with it._

Rachel thinks of how far she’s fallen, being cut off by her own _thoughts_ – that quite resembles Santana, oddly – but then the stark reality that she’s actually going to have to touch Quinn’s bare skin hits her, and she bites her lip in frustration ( _of both variations_ , Bi-rry snickers), because there’s no way Quinn can reach her sore spots on her own, and there’s even less way the diva’s going to let the blonde suffer through an aching back.

_You just don’t want the possibility that she’ll ask someone else to do it_.

_Go to hell._

_I mean, hell is where the gay ‘sinners’ are, so I’m down with that._

She lets out a long-heaving grunt as she finally finds the bottle she’s looking for, and she asks, _At least can you tell me what to do later? I mean, do I tell her to take off her shirt again? Or-_ oh fuck _, what if she takes off her bra?_

There’s no reply from her alter ego, and she grumbles internally, hand reaching to turn the door handle. _So_ now _you’re quiet._

Her musings are completely stopped and derailed when she sees Quinn lying on her stomach on her bed.

With her shirt off.

And _shit_ , is that Quinn’s bra right there on her tabletop?

Her brain completely short-circuits immediately, incoherent thoughts just rushing at her from all directions, because fuck fuck fuck Quinn’s naked boobs are pressing right into her bedsheets, and shit how is she supposed to sleep there the next night knowing _that_ and not mas-

Stop it, Rachel!

But really, if she just looks a bit closer, she’ll be able to see the sides of pale breasts, and they just look _so_ enticing, like they’re begging to be touched, and Rachel finds that she very desperately wants to do just that, running her fingers over-

Dammit, stop perving on your crush!

Best friend, she meant. Best friend, who’s she simply physically attracted to and nothing more.

Said best friend, who’s currently looking at her with her lips curled in a delectable smirk, and a preying gleam that tells Rachel that she’s enjoying the brunette’s reaction maybe too much.

This is just Quinn being flirty, right? She’s accepted her apparent sapphic inclinations fairly recently, so now she’s embracing it and testing the waters, which is perfectly fine.

If only the blonde didn’t choose her as her test subject to torture so sweetly.

But then, the thought of Quinn flirting with other people, other _girls_ , leaves a bitter and sour taste in her mouth, and a rough rumble awakens in her chest, clawing with a jealousy that she hasn’t felt in maybe forever. _Mine_.

Shit.

Is she- Does she have a- a _crus_ -

No fucking way.

She does _not_ have a _crush_ on Quinn Fabray.

It’s not like her heart skips a beat every time Quinn smiles, and it’s not like her stomach starts fluttering at simple contact between their bodies, and it’s certainly not like she spends hours tossing and turning at night just thinking about what it would be like to be Quinn’s girlf-

Fuck, she can’t believe she’s thinking this, but go back to boobs and legs. Now.

Don’t think about how Quinn’s hugs are warm and fuzzy, making her feel cherished and safe and _loved_. Don’t think about how small thoughtful gestures like door-opening and sweet poems written on notes sneakily passed over are the highlights of her day. Don’t think about how when Quinn looks at her, it makes her feel as if she’s special, as if she’s the only person in the room that exists.

This is just her blurring the lines, confusing physical attraction with emotional because Quinn’s the first person to truly slot into the best friend role that Rachel’s wanted for so long – as much as she hates to admit it, Kurt’s best friend will always be Mercedes – and she’s just latching onto the blonde in typical Rachel Berry fashion.

This is a fad that will pass, just like when she had obsessively chased after Finn at his shaky tenor. But this time, she can’t afford to drive Quinn away, because honestly, the Cheerio is the best thing that’s happened to her, and she can’t afford to throw that away with her special brand of crazy.

“You okay there Rach?”

The smooth velvet of Quinn’s voice brings her out of her inner crisis, and she takes in a breath, pushing away her thoughts for now. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She tries her best to sound nonchalant and not at all terrified, but it’s clear that it doesn’t work, and Quinn notices. “You don’t have to help me you know,” she grants her an out, “Is it because I’m gay? I mean, I didn’t consider that you would want to have boundaries, but-”

“No!” Rachel vehemently denies, “I’m completely fine with it – it would be pretty hypocritical of me since I consider myself to be bisexual.”

At this, Quinn perks up as she raises an interested brow. “Oh?”

Rachel can’t stop the color that rises on her cheeks, and she hurries her friend’s side, hoping to get this over with quickly as she spreads the massage cream on her hands.

But the second that her hands make contact with smooth pale skin, all that goes right out the window. Quinn’s skin is hard with rippling muscles, not overly defined as to seem unwomanly, but rather in a way that promises quiet strength, with a softness there and Rachel finds endlessly pleasing.

“You feel so _smooth_ ,” she whispers in awe as she presses down on tense muscles, and she doesn’t even realize she says it until Quinn laughs, and she flushes in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Quinn doesn’t tease her, instead content to enjoy her massage, and she lets out little grunts and mewls whenever Rachel hits a particularly sore spot.

Rachel blushes an even deeper red, but still thanks the massage workshops she had taken nonetheless as she likes the sounds that Quinn makes just maybe a little too much, and she presses down harder at a stubborn knot.

“You’re so good at this Rae,” the blonde murmurs, “Your hands are so soft and not mannish at all, you know that right?”

Rachel can only hum an affirmative as she tries to ignore the fact that her dreams will most likely be haunted by Quinn’s moans now, and when she accidentally trails her fingers over the side of the Cheerio’s breast, she nearly loses all self-control right then and there.

“Your fingers are so talented,” Quinn smirks, clearly knowing what she’s doing. “Feels _so_ good Rae.”

A strangled sound erupts from Rachel throat, and Quinn’s smirk stretches even wider. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” the brunette groans, though she isn’t quite able to keep the arousal out of her tone.

“I have to keep myself entertained _somehow_ ,” Quinn chuckles.

At that, Rachel’s heart can’t help but drop, knowing that she’s simply ‘entertainment’ for the blonde, but she pushes away that thought immediately, because she doesn’t have a crush on Quinn dammit!

“Plus, how do you expect me to contain myself around a girl as pretty as you?”

Fuck Quinn for being so sweetly flirty.

(She actually wants to do that, _so much_.)

Still, her breath catches at that. “You think I’m pretty?”

Quinn smiles as she turns her head slightly to get a better look at her. “You’re _gorgeous_ , Rachel.”

Well, Rachel can’t think of anything to say to that.

Actually, she can, and it involves the words ‘I think I have a crush on you’, but there’s no way she does – her mind just probably conjured the words up for dramatic effect – so she goes back to admiring the strong ridges of Quinn’s back as she kneads her fingers into the skin.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s a small part in her that just _knows_ that she’s fallen already, because she never stood a chance.


	9. IV. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where 7k of fluff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to GrumpkinVicky, whose writing speed is something I aspire to.

“Come on, we can walk over to my place and do girly sleepover stuff.” Quinn walks out of Rachel’s bedroom with her bag over her shoulder.

Snapped out of her reverie (and daydreams of Quinn coming out of her room naked instead), Rachel hums her assent with only a slight pink to her cheeks. She pauses though, frowning, “Wait, you won’t be extra sore if you walk, right?”

“Doctor says that nothing super heavy on my upper body will be fine,” Quinn assures her, before her lips quirk in a devious smirk. “Plus, if I do end up sore again, you would definitely help me ease the _tension_ , wouldn’t you?”

Ignoring the now obvious flush of red on her face, Rachel escapes into her bedroom to pack her overnight supplies in a hurry, sending a text to her dads to let them know that she’ll be sleeping over at Quinn’s. She maybe neglects to pack a T-shirt and shorts, because she knows that Quinn will lend her hers, and call her pathetic, but she really likes wearing the blonde’s nice-smelling and slightly oversized shirts.

_You’re pathetic._

_Correction,_ we’re _pathetic. If I have to suffer through this, you have to too._

_Bitch, if we had it my way, we wouldn’t be suffering at_ all _. Well, there might be a bit of teasing, but-_

“You aren’t packing anything else?” Quinn asks, cutting into her thoughts, and Rachel thinks, shit, she’s onto her, but then the Cheerio motions to the journal on the desk instead, eyes gleaming. “Thought you might want to read it while I’m in the shower or whatever.”

“Oh!” Rachel perks up as she places the journal in her bag carefully, almost as if it’s sacred – it might as well be, considering the amount of effort Quinn clearly puts into them – and she sends the blonde a sheepish smile.

But still, the glow in Quinn’s eyes tells her that she totally knows what Rachel’s doing by not packing her clothes, and the brunette shoves the implications of that into the back of her mind along with all her other raging thoughts for the time being.

She already has the whole possibly having a crush on Quinn Fabray thing going on, she doesn’t need another internal crisis to deal with.

…Which just brings her back to possibly having a crush on Quinn Fabray.

Internal crisis indeed.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

“You know, I just realized that even all the times you’ve been here, I’ve never really given you a tour of the place,” Quinn suddenly mentions as they enter the house.

“Guess you better show me around then,” Rachel isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but she plays along anyway.

Quinn simply hums, directing the brunette to put her bags on the living room’s couch as always. “You’ve pretty much seen most of it, the study and the guest room and everything else, but I’ve kind of been keeping something away from you.”

“Just so you know, if you have a shrine hidden away somewhere dedicated to me, I wouldn’t think less of you,” Rachel jokes, Quinn tugging her by the hand to an unfamiliar doorway.

“Rachel Berry, always so humble,” Quinn snorts, rolling her eyes fondly.

She’s about to retort when she’s dragged into the room, and the words are taken away from her as she sees the large library-music room hybrid.

It’s clear that it’s separated into two, with rows of bookshelves and an armchair in the corner, right next to a window on the left, and a grand piano along with some other instruments to the right.

“…This is _breathtaking_ , Quinn,” she breathes out.

Quinn lets loose a little grin, the one that reaches her eyes and causes little upheavals of Rachel’s stomach. “It used to be just the library, and I came here all the time to lose myself in _Alice In Wonderland_. But then when I turned seven, Russell demanded that I learn how to play piano and other ‘lady-like’ instruments, so he cleared out half of the room for them instead,” she explains, lost in her reminiscing. “Oddly enough, I didn’t mind learning the flute and violin and all that, and I loved playing piano, so I guess he did one thing right.”

“He did two,” Rachel says, and Quinn gives her a questioning look. “He created you.”

A self-depreciating look flickers across the honor-roll student’s face, and Rachel’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare say that you’re a mistake, Quinn Fabray.”

Quinn simply shrugs, but it’s clear that she appreciates the words, and she motions to the covered guitar leaning on one of the shelves. “My tutor used to teach me how to play, and I didn’t like it as much as I liked piano, but I enjoyed it. Russell found out though, and I never saw my tutor again. Though, I _did_ manage to hide the guitar before he could throw it away.”

At this point, Rachel’s entirely convinced that she’s only going to hate Russell Fabray even more with every anecdote that the blonde tells her, because that sad but resigned in its melancholy expression is one that she never wants to see on Quinn’s face ever again, and her heart clenches at the sight.

She wants to say something, wax poetry about how Quinn’s perfect and amazing, but she’s always been more of an action more than words person, so she reaches out a hand to interlace with Quinn’s. “Play me a song on the piano?”

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, a light smile appearing as Rachel eagerly nods. She moves to sit on the piano bench, running her fingers over the keys, and suddenly Rachel is _very_ aware of how slender and long they are, splaying over the white keys in an almost sensual display of elegance.

Swallowing down the gulp in her throat, Rachel tries to block out her inappropriate thoughts of _how_ exactly can those fingers be put to use, and thankfully, the second Quinn starts playing expertly, all other thoughts fall away as she watches the blonde glide her fingers over the keys effortlessly.

She doesn’t even know that her breath’s stolen away by the calm music until her lungs practically beg for air, and she blinks, not really able comprehend the swell in her chest. Quinn’s face is serene, calm in a way that Rachel’s seen rarely, and the blonde just looks so _at peace_ that Rachel can’t take her eyes off her, captivated and enthralled.

It’s clear that Quinn loves playing the piano, and as the light reflects off of her pretty and defined features, Rachel can’t help but think that this is one of the most beautiful images she has ever seen, and it suddenly occurs to her that she wants nothing more than to experience this every day.

She wants to be there for every beaming smile and bubbling giggle, she wants to be the one that gets to be crushed in bear hugs, she wants _Quinn_.

But before that line of thought can spiral any further down, Quinn plays the final chord in her song, haunting and beautifully tragic like an echo, and Rachel exhales a breath as Quinn turns to look at her in an almost-shy manner, as if any verdict given wouldn’t be a standing ovation.

Rachel lets herself gaze into those hazel pools of mystery in awe, and she forces herself to conjure up words. “I…I don’t know what to say Quinn…That was beautiful.”

The taller girl shrugs, looking away. “I’m kinda rusty, but it was okay I guess.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, (and maybe curse at whatever god was out there a bit, because really, how on Earth did they manage to create someone as wonderful as Quinn Fabray, she’ll never know) Rachel narrows her eyes and grabs at Quinn’s good hand, forcing the blonde to meet her eyes. “Say that you’re proud of yourself.”

“What, no way!” Quinn tries pulling away instinctively, but Rachel is unwilling to budge.

“Honestly, it’s quite simple Quinn, I don’t understand why you’re resisting,” she huffs, to which Quinn scoffs. “Now, say it with me. ‘I, Quinn Fabray, am proud of myself and my achievements.”

At this, Quinn shakes her head decisively. “Berry, if you really think that you’ll rope me into saying… _that_ , I guess you don’t know me that well then.”

Affronted, Rachel gasps in indignance. “It’s the fact that I _do_ know you that well that I’m telling you to do this!”

Quinn is obviously unimpressed, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her – dammit Rachel, _focus_ – and Rachel’s doe eyes are doing nothing. Time to pull out the big guns then.

Arranging her lips into a perfect pout – she’s researched this online for just such an occasion, never say that Rachel Berry is unprepared – and increasing the intensity of her puppy eyes, she throws it at Quinn with full force, making sure to add some wetness to her eyes just for that extra insurance. “ _Please_ , Quinn?”

There’s a long beat, with Quinn looking at her warily, until finally, she says, “You’re cheating, Rae.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises, and she maybe kind of blushes internally, because the optimal way in mind she wants to do that is definitely rated NC-17.

She knows the exact moment when Quinn gives in, her facial expression changing almost imperceptibly with a calculating gleam in her eyes, and the cheerleader sighs. “Anything I want?”

“Anything,” Rachel answers without a beat, and though she probably should’ve thought it over a bit in her head before agreeing, the lavish smirk that appears sends shivers down her spine in the best ways possible.

“Okay then,” the honor-roll student says easily with not even an eyelash batted. “I, Quinn Fabray, am proud of myself and my achievements.”

The smirk on Quinn’s face quickly turns into a shit-eating grin instead, and Rachel shuts her gaping jaw. “I just got played, didn’t I?”

“Therapy works wonders, the shrink had me saying that on our ninth session,” Quinn chuckles as she stands up to pat Rachel’s head. “Don’t worry Rae, I’m sure that you’ll quite enjoy the favour that I have in mind.”

“I’m not even sure whether to berate or commend you on your acting that fooled even me Quinn Fabray, but you won’t get me next time!” Rachel vows, jutting her lips out in a pout.

“Aww, don’t worry you poor baby, I’ve had enough acting in my life to last through ten lifetimes,” Quinn coos, “So rest assured, your EGOT will remain untouched.”

Rachel gasps immediately, “Why, I’ll have you know that-”

She’s interrupted by Quinn rushing forward to pull her into a bone-crushing hug, and she squeals, “Quinn, what are you- Be careful of your arm, dammit!”

Quinn doesn’t pay her warnings any mind, instead squeezing even harder, and Rachel struggles in the blonde’s grip to no avail. “Stop moving Rae, you’re making this harder than it has to be,” Quinn complains, and Rachel gawps at her.

“ _I’m_ making this difficult?” she says incredulously.

Of course, Quinn ignores the sarcasm, nodding solemnly. “You’re holding up the affairs of the FABRAY squad, which is a very severe crime.”

“What the hell is the FABRAY squad?” Rachel shakes her head, leaning against the taller girl’s neck now that she’s given up on getting out of Quinn’s (rather comfortable) grip.

“The Fetter A Bolshie Rachel And Yuk squad, of course,” Quinn states matter-of-factly, and when Rachel stares blankly at her, she sighs. “It means ‘restrain a stubborn Rachel and laugh’, really, I thought that you ate dictionaries for breakfast-”

“What- I know what it means!” Rachel swats at Quinn’s good arm.

“Of course you do,” Quinn deadpans, before a smirk etches itself onto her face as she drawls, “Now, since you’ve violated the FABRAY terms of agreement, punishment must be enacted.”

Before Rachel can even react to what the hell even did Quinn say, she’s attacked with tickling fingers at her ribs, and she jerks sideways in an attempt to escape. “Quinn, wh-what is the meaning of this!” she demands, trying her hardest not to laugh and give Quinn that satisfaction. “Cease and desist this right this instant!”

“Nope,” Quinn chirps, resuming her attack on the diva’s sensitive sides.

Rachel can’t stop the laughter bubbling up in her chest, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles, loud chortles erupting from her mouth. “Qu-Quinn!” she begs, “St-Stop-Stop it!”

“If only you had accepted my loving hugs, then this could’ve all been avoided,” Quinn grins, unrelenting in her attack. “Now admit that you love my hugs.”

She doesn’t want to give in and looks away stubbornly, though it isn’t doing much as she’s still a mixture between laughing and crying, crackling so hard that her lungs contract and expand so quickly it almost hurts.

“Oh Rachel,” Quinn coos, “You should know by now that I’m a Fabray. And Fabrays get what they want, no matter what.”

There isn’t a beat until Quinn is picking her up and spinning her around, laughing wildly the entire time. “Oh my god Quinn, your arm- what are you doing?” Rachel’s unable to hold in her exuberant cries, heart racing in exhilaration, and she grabs onto the taller girl’s neck as she’s spun around, relieved that she’s gotten a break from the tickling. “Okay, okay!” she laughs, “I admit that I love your hugs, happy now?”

“Very,” Quinn grins back at her, stretching across her face beautifully, and Rachel doesn’t even mind the ten years that’s probably been shaven off from that experience, still holding on to Quinn’s neck even as she’s let down.

“Honestly Quinn, your arm-”

“Is fine,” Quinn assures her, before the moment quiets down.

It’s only then that she realizes the close proximity that they’re at, and her breath lifts, face feeling all too close but yet so far from Quinn’s, and she stares into hazel eyes in a daze, her laughter fading into something else, something far more _intimate_.

Suddenly, Quinn pulls away, though she still keeps her hand interlaced with the brunette’s, and Rachel can’t help but mourn the loss of the everlasting haven of warmth. ( _Not a crush my ass,_ her inner voice snorts.)

As a matter of fact, Quinn doesn’t look at that happy about it herself, her facial expression reigned in as if she’s consciously forcing herself to stay away, but Rachel chalks it up to her confused feelings and wistful imagination, especially now that she’s starting to entertain thoughts of having a possible crush on her.

“Wanna read books with me until we feel hungry?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence after a while, and Rachel nods, their little moment broken and leaving an ache there that she can’t identify as relief or longing.

She lets herself be led to the cozy armchair in the corner, and when Quinn settles herself on it, grabbing a copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ , Rachel’s lips turn in a silent question, not sure as to where to sit.

Rolling her eyes, Quinn pats her lap impatiently, and Rachel colors in apprehension, already dreading and anticipating the close constant that’s both heaven and sweet, sweet torture at the same time.

She lingers for a few seconds, and Quinn lets out a cute little grunt at the hold-up. Before the blonde can inevitably pull her down herself, Rachel grumbles, “I’m sitting now, so don’t think about yanking me down like always with your physical tendencies.”

“You love it,” Quinn retorts as the diva feels arms circling around her waist and a head resting against her shoulder. Rachel crosses her arms without a reply, jutting her chin away, and a few beats pass with her still in her diva pose.

The weight of Quinn’s arms and head disappear in a flash, and Rachel hates the chill that washes across her body without her source of warmth, turning to look at Quinn to demand an explanation.

She finds Quinn with her head to the floor and a remorseful look on her face. “Sorry,” she mutters, “I had no idea you didn’t like it, I’ll stop being so touchy-feely all the time.”

Rachel watches as the blonde tries to inch away from her, hating the downcast expression weighing down Quinn’s beautiful features, and she reaches for Quinn’s hands to clasp around her waist without a second thought (though she still accounts for the blonde’s injured arm), the warmth and safety that envelopes her once more feeling much more comfortable.

“Okay, first of all, that was a _joke_ ,” she emphasizes, nuzzling herself further into Quinn’s lap. “And second of all, I love falling into your arms…and I _really_ like how you’re so tactile all the time.”

Quinn’s face quickly morphs into a smirk, and she snuggles up closer to her. “So…you love falling into my arms, then?”

Rachel groans, and she snatches the copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ out of Quinn’s hands. “Just start reading, Fabray.”

“But I want you to,” Quinn almost-whines, and she sounds so cute that Rachel has to suppress a smile, turning the book to the first page.

“How about we take turns?” she suggests, and she pretends that it’s totally not because she wants to hear Quinn’s smooth voice over and over again, because really, the girl could read the phone book in a monotone and she’d still get the urge to plunge her fingers-

Anyhow! Quinn agrees, and with a satisfied hmpf, Rachel starts reading, getting lost into the tale of Alice’s adventures and languidly leaning on Quinn’s frame now that she’s certain the Cheerio’s arm is fine.

Time passes quickly, with them switching every two pages, and it’s on Quinn’s turn to read when Rachel realizes how truly _content_ she is, just being held in the blonde’s arms and _there_ , all other thoughts banished and consumed in the moment with only her and Quinn existing.

There isn’t a single thought about Broadway or New York running through her brain for once, instead filled with how gorgeous Quinn looks as she reads with a peaceful expression, voice lifted in a delighted drawl recounting Alice’s adventures, and in her mind, there is only _Quinn Quinn Quinn_ , as if they’re living in a personal fairytale.

It doesn’t scare her as it should when she realizes that she wants nothing more than to experience that fairytale every day.

But those thoughts are deathly dangerous and will only end in tears and destruction, so when her stomach rumbles and Quinn laughs softly, reaching for her phone to order take-out, the brunette welcomes the distraction, curling back into Quinn’s warm body in an attempt to absorb all the bliss she’s feeling.

“What d’you want for lunch?” she feels Quinn run her foot up her calf, and she shivers involuntarily at the goosebumps that arise at the pleasant sensation.

Tangling her limbs with the blonde’s, Rachel mumbles a sleepy “Whatever you want,” and yawns, suddenly wanting to just disappear into this moment and never come back.

“Rae, I can’t get the takeout menu if you’re lounging on me,” Quinn chuckles but still making no move to change that.

Rachel lets out a petulant whine, snuggling deeper into the Cheerio’s neck and using it as a pillow. “You’re the first in our grade, right? So use your genius memory or whatever to order.”

She hears Quinn sigh fondly, and when she feels fingers tangle themselves into her hair to rake over her scalp in an almost-intuitive action, a purr can’t help but emit from her throat, and she blushes at Quinn’s raised eyebrow.

After the blonde gets off of the phone, she shifts into a more comfortable position leaning her head against Rachel’s, and the brunette tries her hardest not to think of how couple-y it seems, with them wrapped up so tightly together she doesn’t even know where her limbs start and Quinn’s end.

“Sleep Rae,” Quinn mummers, putting down her phone and book so that her hand can resume her ministrations and her other can come up to rest against the small of Rachel’s back.

And well, Rachel always listened to what Quinn had to say, so surrounded in the comfort and warmth that the taller girl provided, she dozes off into sleep with visions of hazel and blonde hair behind her eyelids.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

She’s gently shaken awake, and she wakes to the wonderful sight Quinn smiling softly at her.

“Takeout’s here,” the honor-roll student tries to roll Rachel off her. “I gotta go get the door.”

“No,” Rachel refuses as she buries herself deeper into the creamy expanse of Quinn’s neck, still groggy with sleep and entirely too relaxed to bring herself to move. “You feel good.”

Quinn lets loose a laugh, and just a moment later, Rachel’s suddenly being carried bridal style, carted off in the direction of the door. Now wide awake, she shrieks, and at the crippling laughter that tumbles out of Quinn, she swats at the girl’s good arm, grumbling, “I think I liked you better when you were in your repressed cheerleader phase and a bitch to me- on a second thought, you’re still a bitch to me, never mind.”

“I’m offended,” Quinn deadpans in reply, and Rachel knows by now that struggling will do nothing, so she resigns herself to her fate, opening the door for Quinn.

The takeout guy looks weirdly at them, but Rachel grabs the food and shoos him away quickly, paying him with the money that Quinn shad omehow took on the way there. “Thank you!” she calls after the confused man.

Quinn slams the door shut with her foot. “Yup, it was definitely a pleasure,” she monotones.

“Be nice, Quinn,” Rachel chides, and the blonde rolls her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, I’m sure that the random delivery guy will just be _so_ devastated.”

“See?” Rachel bites her lip to stave off the smile threatening to appear. “Actions have consequences you know.”

“Oh god you’re so infuriating,” Quinn chuckles, and when Rachel opens her mouth to relay how exactly that offended her, she’s flung into the (albeit large and very comfy) couch, landing on her back with a pout.

“Quinn!” she whines, “Stop abusing me, or I won’t mention you in my Tony acceptance speech when I enviably receive it!”

“I’ve seen your long and detailed binders full of them Rachel, and pretty much every single one has been amended to have _me_ in it, Quinn smiles smugly, and Rachel feels the immense urge to kiss it off of those tempting lips and- wait, stop right there for a second. Or an eternity. “Don’t lie Rae, or the FABRAY squad will happily come to detain you again.”

“I hate you and your stupid FABRAY squad,” Rachel hmpfs, and promptly turns away so she’s facing the couch on her side instead.

“Fine by me,” Quinn says with an undercurrent full of mirth that tells her that the blonde is trying not to laugh. “It’s just such a shame that I’ll have to eat this absolutely _delicious_ lo mein all by myself.”

Rachel counts to three.

Dammit the food smells good. And so does Quinn.

She slowly turns back around to face the kitchen bar-counter with jutted lips, and Quinn laughs. “Oh come here you big baby.”

Rachel is happy to oblige.

Plopping herself into Quinn’s lap, it happens so naturally that she doesn’t even register her position until Quinn stares at her with an eyebrow quirked, and her eyes widen slightly.

_Oh shit. How did that happen?_

_Why are you asking me, if it were up to me we’d already be fucking on the couch!_

_Ugh, stop insisting that I have a crush on her!_

_I didn’t, you’re the one who’s bringing it up! I’m just the bisexual part of your brain that wants to bang Quinn Fabray, and plus, weren’t you just saying that you were physically attracted to her? So no problem!_

_…You do have a point. I approve of this, continue on providing me with wonderful fantasies of her then._

_Finally, you see the light! Now, I’m thinking pantsuits, leather – faux of course – and-_

_Wait!_

_Ugh, what now?_

_I’m still in her lap!_

_Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I’m so proud of you, you’re finally taking initiative to speed things along!_

_What?_

_Honestly, you’d think that thousands of wet dreams about Quinn would catch you up to speed a bit, but nope, instead I have to listen to you blabber on in denial about your feelings, god!_

_I told you that I’m just physically attracted to her dammit!_

_Yeah yeah tell that to the part of your brain that handles your denial, I’m just here because of that physical attraction. Just follow my instructions and you’ll be fine, got me?_

_Wha-_

_Great, now start subtly grinding into her, I’m sure our ballet lessons have to be good for_ something _, and then turn around to straddle her, she’s definitely going to like that, and when she starts to moan do that thing where-_

_Nonononononono! We are_ not _having this conversation here!_

_So maybe when she’s in the shower later then? It’s been_ so _long since we had a proper orgas-_

_I meant not now, and definitely not ever!_

_Stop being such a twatswatter, it’s not like you’re not going to cave one of these days and get out a dil-_

“Rachel, you okay there?”

She spasms immediately. “Lap!”

“I’m _pretty_ sure that’s not how you do a lap dance Rae,” Quinn chuckles, looking at her with an amused quirk of her lips that Rachel really really wants to- damn you, Bi-rry! “You might wanna try again.”

“No I- I just- Oh god can I just crawl in a hole and die and never come back out again?” Rachel buries her head into Quinn’s neck to hide her embarrassed blush.

Quinn laughs and runs her fingers through brown tresses. “But if you died, that would mean leaving me behind, and I’d miss you much!” Rachel blushes even harder, but then Quinn continues, “I mean, who would get me into all the cool Broadway parties then?”

Rachel groans and shakes her head. “Just eat your fucking lo mein, Fabray.”

Quinn lets out a faux-shocked gasp. “Is it just me, or did forever-uptight Rachel Berry just say fuck?” she looks around as if scandalized and wanting to spill it all to the nearest journalist. “Folks, you heard this first right here, Rachel Barbra Berry just cursed, what an outrage!”

“Oh shut your mouth Quinn,” Rachel rolls her eyes, though she can’t hide her smile at the blonde’s antics.

(And also maybe Quinn saying the word fuck in her perfect sexy voice is just really the fucking biggest turn-on ever, and she needs something to distract herself, but that’s just a theory, really. Such pesky little things they are.)

Lunch is passed with banter and possibly a little bit of petulant food-throwing, with Quinn crackling the entire way through.

It’s been weeks, but Rachel’s still slightly surprised when she sees the blonde laugh so freely and just so playful compared to her HBIC persona, and not for the first time, she wonders how on Earth she had managed to gain access to this wonderful facet of Quinn Fabray, the Quinn that loves reading and makes silly jokes and randomly starts sprouting romantic poetry.

It simply confuddles her when she allows herself to think about it too much – which is pretty much every night – just like it confuddles her when she gets that same old flutter in her stomach at that same romantic poetry. But that’s just thinking too much, so she shoves that to the back of her mind and munches down on the last of her food, unconsciously leaning back against Quinn with a contented sigh.

Fingers automatically start massaging her scalp, and as she lets loose a satisfied little grunt at the back of her throat, she wonders if this is going to be a _thing_ now, Quinn playing with her hair. The utter thought is so _domestic_ that Rachel’s sure that she’s going to have a heart attack when her brain fully catches up with it, but she can’t really bring herself to care when Quinn’s slender fingers are running her hair and feeling so good.

“Come on Rae, I gotta tutor you,” the blonde’s voice rings out as she tugs gently, an affectionate look adorned on her face. “I know for a fact that you haven’t been paying attention in lit class, and you’re going to give me an earful if you don’t get an A on the next quiz.”

_Well it’s not my fault that you look so cute when you’re reading and you bite your lip trying to focus!_ Rachel’s inner voice whines. Instead, Rachel’s outer voice whines, “Yeah well, _somebody_ has been distracting me during class!”

“I wonder who?” Quinn drawls dryly, and before Rachel can come up with a suitably-witty retort, she’s promptly picked up once more. “Now onwards we go, I shall proudly escort the Queen herself to her study.”

“ _Extort_ , more like,” Rachel faux-grumbles, but yet still nuzzling herself as close as she can into the blonde’s body, taking care not to nudge against her injured forearm.

Quinn hides a smirk. “You seem to be enjoying it very much though.”

_Yes, I want you to extort the_ shit _out of me_ , is what Bi-rry directs her to growl, but she keeps up her façade of being mad instead, hoping that Quinn won’t notice the wetness starting to leak through her skirt from her panties. “I have a feeling this is going to be a thing; might as well enjoy it.”

“Do you _want_ this to be a thing?” Quinn raises a (fuckin’ sexy-ass) eyebrow at her, slowly walking towards the spiral staircases leading to the second floor.

_Oh, I_ definitely _want this to be a thing, just imagine, being able to cop a feel at any time under the pretense of accidentally brushing against her, oh my!_

_What-No! We’ve gone over this, we’re not going to…_ molest _Quinn Fabray, okay?_

_Then again, with how idiotic you act around her, you’d probably screw that up too while all we actually want is to screw_ her _, and you’d say something like, ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry, I have no idea how my tongue ended up on your boob!’_

_Waa-Boobs?_

_Yeah_ boobs _, you ever heard of them? Because you sure as hell have never seen anybody else’s, never listening to my ingenious schemes…_

_You mean-_ Quinn Fabray _’s boobs?_

_Ugh, yes Quinn Fabray’s boobs you dingus. Remember, that day in the locker room? I’m pretty sure you do, we’ve had like twenty wet dreams about that since, and I think like four hundred and thirty-two fantasies? I’ve lost track._

_Quinn. Boobs._

_Yeah, Quinn’s perky and creamy boobs. I was kinda more focused on her abs back there, I wanted to lick ‘em so badly you have no idea – actually, you probably do, but I’ve unfortunately inherited your dramatic tendencies, so no interrupting me._

_Quinn. Smooth. Hard. Abs._

_I can for sure think of_ one _thing that’s hard right now…_

_…_

_Rachel?_

_…_

_Huh, you’ve finally gone into cardiac arrest._

_…_

_Dude, you gotta wake up, we still haven’t had sex with Quinn yet! Smooth and hard abs and boobs remember?_

_…I want it, I want it!_

_Oh god it’s like dealing with a kid at a fucking candy store, at least wipe your chin, will ya?_

_Oh no!_

_What now?_

_Quinn’s smirking at me! I’m being smirked at by Quinn’s smirkity smirk smirk, help!_

_What, don’t look at me, my usual solution to everything is sex!_

_…Sex?_

_Not this again…now see, when two people love each other very much, they-_

_I know what sex is dammit! I meant Quinn’s eyes, they’re literally looking at us like liquid sex!_

_How should I know, I haven’t been paying attention because_ you _kept on distracting me, and now- Oh holy mother of Jesus Quinn’s sex eyes are distracting me so much!_

_I know, right? And look at her eyebrow, it’s like the perfect arched degree of sexiness, how that even possible? Even the golden flecks in her eyes turn me on, what’s happening to me?_

_Hell if I know – why is she caressing our thigh like that? It should be illegal, downright sinful!_

_Oh god what is she doing with her tongue, she’s running it over her lip and it’s moving so treacherously slow, I just kinda wanna suck on it a little bit!_

_Just a little bit? Stop lying to yourself, we both know that we want to kiss Quinn Fabray like there’s no tomorrow and fuck till New Year’s Eve, and then some!_

_I’m supposed to be still in denial, stop ruining my internal crisis, you’re dampening the drama!_

_Seriously I don’t get paid enough to do this shit._

_Look, when this is over with, I’ll get out the videos of Quinn doing sky splits._

_Please, you already do that on a nightly basis – vetoed!_

_Fine! It’s times like these when I hate how stubborn and clever we are…I know Jacob Ben Israel has a collection of her, we can steal it and burn everything else!_

_…We’ve allowed him to have such a collection of Quinn for so long? What have we been doing, woman?_

_Preferably Quinn._

_…_

_YOU’VE INFECTED ME!_

_Eh, good enough, I’ll play your little game for now. Now, ahem…Oh my god! There’s no way we have a crush on Quinn Fabray, it’s totally not like she has the best ass ever and her tits aren’t the perfect size at all!_

_…You’re mocking me._

_And she definitely doesn’t look cute as fuck when her tongue pokes out while she’s concentrating, and there’s no way that flutter in our stomach is- HOLY CRAP YOU’VE INFECTED ME TOO!_

_Ugh, your role in this is supposed to be the ‘snarky and sex-obsessed personality’ that embarrasses me but will provide my brain with imaginary laughter from my fake audience in the background, dammit!_

_But- But- Holy crap do we have a cru-_

_(Finally, we’re on the right track here, great, now show time Rachel!) No, we don’t! It’s-_

_Yeah okay, I’m tired of playing this game now, go preach to the fake audience in your head instead._

_Wait what?_

_Rachel, sweetie, I’m the part of your brain that’s_ self-aware _, something that you definitely aren’t, and while I do like catering to your dramatic needs once in a while like also pretending there’s a fake audience watching our every move, I simply like thinking about sex more and the dirty,_ dirty _things we can do to Quinn, and judging by every movie ever, I’m supposedly going to help you on your path to enlightenment, so keep listening to me, yeah?_

_But-_

_Mmkay, it was totally nice listening to your oblivious thoughts, we should do this again, sometime after this century maybe? Now that that’s over with, let’s think about that growl that’s coming out of Quinn’s absolutely_ delectable _mouth while we’re purring at her strokes up our thighs, I wonder if we can get her hand to go just a bit further up, we’re already so_ wet _and achi-_

_When did we start_ purring _, what the fuck?_

_Seriously, you’ve been refusing to masturbate because Quinn naked pops up in our brain every time and you’re wondering_ why _we’re subtly thrusting our hips downwards into her abs like we’re fucking repressed like no tomorrow?_

_Shit, we’ve been doing that? Mission abort I tell ya, mission abort!_

_Oh hell to the no, we’re just a few more hip thrusts until we’re perfectly aligned with Quinn’s abs and we need an orgasm so badly, it’s not like Quinn’s not enjoying it, look at her smirk and blown pupils!_

_Stop making things up dammit!_

_What, like the fact that all you want to do is sit on Quinn’s face?_

_Ohmygod can you stop making me think about sex for like one second?_

_Yeah well, ohmygod can you stop being such a fucking twatswat for like one second?_

_Ugh you're so infuriating!_

_I'm_ you _honey, and at least when I do it it's for better sex!_

_Oh, fuck you, Bi-rry._

_Honestly, have you been paying_ any _attention at all? It's all I've been trying to get Quinn to do since she came back from Cheerio camp during seventh grade with boobs!_

_I can’t believe you! I ought to- Oh fuck!_

_What crisis have you stumbled into this time?_

_Um, I believe that we’re currently latched onto Quinn Fabray, and she’s about to throw us onto her bed._

_What? Woohoo! When did we manage to do that? You know what, I don’t care- SEX, FINALLY!_

_Goddamit, how many times do I have to tell you, we’re not having sex with- Holy shit, falling onto a bed has never felt so good!_

_Oh, we’re going onto the circlejerking section of this long-ass conversation? Great, I’ve been wanting to scream about how Quinn looks so fucking sexy towering over us with her hooded eyes like that for fucking forever!_

_…_

_I heard your whimper all the way from here, what you thinking?_

_…_

_Oh._ Oh! _Oh shit, the mental image of Quinn Fabray wearing a strap-on is so fucking hot, I need it so bad!_

_I know right? Ugh, her domineering attitude is such a turn on, look at how she’s licking her bottom lip like that!_

_Welp, at least you’ve admitted that you like her in a physical sense, the thought of her in navy blue lingerie is like, probably every person’s wet dream ever._

_What? I don’t want anyone else having wet dreams about her!_

_Rachel Rachel Rachel…You’re in denial, remember?_

_But…But-_

_Yeah yeah, I’m sure you’ll get a clue-by-four soon enough and then we can fantasize over her with no limits – actually, we’re already doing that, on a second thought I don’t want your mushy crush getting in the way, continue on._

_Um…Bi-rry? I think we have a problem._

_Bitch_ please _, we have so many_ problems _we could probably go on for a billion lifetimes!_

_Well- I fully concur, but Quinn’s like talking to us right now, and all I can focus on is her sexy voice husking at us!_

_And you think_ how _exactly, can I help you?_

_How am I supposed to know, just help me, dammit!_

_Ugh, fine. Say that you love her._

_Good plan._ “I love-” _Wait, I’m not supposed to think that,_ _let alone_ say _it!_

_Really, you choose_ now _to start thinking rationally? You know what, I’m tired of this, I’m going to take a well-deserved nap. You’re on your own, buddy._

_What? No, don’t leave me!_

_…_

_Bi-rry?_

_…_

_God, what happened to your work ethic, you’re so useless!_

“Rae, I think you should probably close your mouth before a fly goes in.”

“Gaah?”

“Your mouth, sweetie,” Quinn drawls, her lips quirked upwards in a wry smirk. “You might wanna consider picking it up off the ground sometime soon.”

It takes Quinn crawling up the bed to lay next to her and being shook in a bear-hug for Rachel to regain her bodily functions, and she burrows her head into the blonde’s chest in embarrassment. “Kill me now please.”

“Mm, but then I wouldn’t be able to hear the end of your sentence before,” Quinn laughs lightly, stoking through the brunette’s hair in calming touches.

Rachel’s eyes widen in alarm, and she lets out a little squeak. “It’s nothing!”

“You’re a really shitty liar Rae.”

“It’s not _my_ fault I’m so genuine, and how dare you call my acting skills into question Quinn Fabray, I really ought to-”

“Misdirection, the oldest technique in the book,” Quinn catches what she’s trying to do, and when Rachel tries to move away from the blonde with a pout, holds her tightly against her chest and traps her. (Not that Rachel minds. Not in the slightest.) “You _are_ aware that you’re talking to the queen of manipulation here, right?”

“Queen of being a bitch, maybe…” Rachel huffs.

At this, Quinn bursts out laughing, drawing back a bit to tuck away Rachel’s bangs. “Dropping the F-bomb _and_ calling someone a bitch twice, all in one day?” She grins cheekily, clearly getting a kick out of Rachel’s misery. “We’re just crossing all sorts of lines today, aren’t we Miss Berry?”

Ignoring her slight lack of breath at the hand still lingering at her face and now lightly stroking her cheek, Rachel closes her eyes and settles her head back on Quinn’s chest. She nuzzles into the nook of a pale neck with a soft and content smile marring her face, the fuzzy warmth in the air bringing her at absolute ease. “Maybe you don’t know me very well then.”

“Well, I’m resolved to _try_ , at the very least,” Quinn replies, sounding every bit as pleased as Rachel, beaming against the diva’s head. “Now, spill what you were gonna say back there.”

Rachel sighs for show as she suppresses her smitten smile. “You never let things go, do you Miss Fabray?”

“Why, Miss Berry, I’m appalled that you would ever think otherwise!”

Quinn’s voice is soft and breathy, luring Rachel to sleep, and she almost does just that, surrounded by the warmth that is Quinn Fabray.

“Rae, your literature grades,” the cheerleader gently reminds.

“I don’t care.”

Delightful laughter fills her ears. “Who are you, and what happened to Rachel Berry?”

“You did.”

A pause, meaningful in a way that Rachel definitely doesn’t understand fully. “You make it sound as if that’s a bad thing.”

“…It’s a good thing. Definitely a good thing.”

“You still have to hear my lectures on literature though,” Quinn says lightly, after a moment.

Rachel laughs, shaking her head. “You’re a slave driver, Quinn Fabray.”

“And yet you love me.”

She does. Even if it’s in a way that she’s not quite ready to come to terms with, she really does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be physically possible for Quinn to carry Rachel around so much, but plot armor so hush. Fun fact: The piano scene was where I accidentally wrote dork!Quinn in, she somehow knew the entire Zelda ost by heart lol. Of course, that didn’t work out, so Of Video Games and Dorkiness was the result. I’m 90 percent sure that I’m going to write a standalone sequel to it, so look out for that. Spy, if you’re reading this, this is all your fault. (And I love you and Uly for it.)


	10. IV. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where family bonding is happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that this fic would be around 70k? Uh…I reached that number today, and I’m still on V, so this may take a weeee bit longer than I anticipated to finish. I hope you guys don’t get sick of this lol :p

She’s been listening to Quinn rave on and on about whatever topic they’re on in lit class for three long, _long_ hours – Rachel will deny to her last breath that the reason why they’re taking so long is because she’s too busy staring at Quinn’s lips animatedly waxing poetry about _To Kill A Mockingbird_ – and she really ought to pay more attention.

“-about covers everything, I think.” Quinn bites her lip with her brows furrowed as if willing herself to recall any left-out information. (Really, why does she have to be so damn cute?) “Oh, remember not to focus too much on one particular character if the essay tells you to do a general theme analysis, I did that for Boo on my seventh-grade book-of-choice essay and the teacher used it as an excuse to give me a 99.”

Rachel barely gets herself together enough to reply, “Let me guess, you wrote another essay to her explaining _why_ you should’ve gotten a perfect score?”

“Rachel, I’m not you, you know,” Quinn teases with an amused undertone, and Rachel blushes instantly, knowing that the blonde definitely remembers the incident when she had done just that, handing out copies of her essay to the entire class, complete with a PowerPoint presentation. “I simply…dug up some information about her.”

“Oh god what did you do?” Rachel rushes out, not knowing whether to be terrified or humored.

“Don’t look like that, it’s not like I killed her!” Quinn defends, the little frown marring her face being the one sign that she’s sulking. She adds under her breath, in a tone that’s almost like a whine, “Though I would’ve damn _liked_ to.”

“Quinn,” Rachel chides, trying hard to suppress her grin.

“Fine,” Quinn sighs dramatically as if it physically hurts her to admit defeat. “I sort of maybe threatened her with telling Sylvester that it was her who leaked the Cheerio setlist that year.”

“What?” Rachel is unable to hold in her disbelieved laugh. “But we were still in middle school back then!”

“Oh please, we both know that Sylvester would go after a goldfish if she was convinced enough,” Quinn waves her off. “Plus, Francine was Head Cheerleader back then, so it wouldn’t have been that big of a stretch.”

“I’m not sure whether to congratulate you on a machinate well executed or to berate you for doing such a thing.”

“Francine _did_ always say that calculation ran in Fabray blood,” Quinn shrugs. “I mean, we _had_ to be if we were to trick a wealthy man into marrying us and handing over all his money.”

Ignoring the second sentence for now (she’s pretty sure that Dr. Flayke will take care of that anyway), Rachel focuses on the fact that she’s finally getting to hear about Quinn’s older sister instead, curious and yearning with a burning hunger to know and understand everything about the blonde. “You don’t talk about your sister much,” she points out.

She doesn’t expect Quinn to snigger like she does, looking all too graceful as she does it as well. “Oh god, you and the shrink are so similar it’s uncanny,” she explains as she calms down. “That was literally one of the first things she had said after I mentioned my sister for the first time.”

Not quite understanding what the cheerleader is trying to tell her, Rachel furrows her brow in confusion but still knowing that she’s walking on fragile glass, so she hedges, “And what did you reply?”

Quinn smiles blandly. “I told her that I hated Francine almost as much as I hated Russell.”

Rachel’s not on the receiving end of it, but she still has to contain a flinch at the blonde’s utterly honest and blunt tone. She tries to decide if she’s allowed to ask, but before Rachel can come to a decision, Quinn continues on, a faraway look glazed over in her eyes.

“Francine was the golden child, I suppose,” she shrugs. “She was the classic example of a Fabray – primp and proper Christian good girl, Head Cheerio, valedictorian. It was only expected of me to be better than her, and-” Quinn lets out a quiet breath, as if it’s a quiet confession. “I tried, Rachel. I _tried_ , so _fucking_ hard.”

It’s almost jarring, the stark contrast between the emotionless melancholy on Quinn face and the raw pain in her voice. Quinn’s fingers start twitching, and Rachel grabs the blonde’s hand before it can even go near her ribs, offering her silent support.

“And you know what?” Quinn shakes her head in a rueful scoff. “When I called her after Russell threw me out, she picked up, and gave me five words before hanging up. _You brought this on yourself._ ”

Rachel’s chest tightens as she takes in a sharp breath involuntarily, and she doesn’t even notice that her grip on Quinn’s hand tightens in fury before she feels a smooth thumb flick over the back of her hand. She relaxes instantly, though she can’t control her words as she growls under her breath, “ _Bitch_.”

When Quinn laughs, full and light, Rachel’s cheeks can’t help but redden in embarrassment, and she defends, “What? She deserves it.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing with you on that point, she’s still siding with Russell and she can go fuck herself for all I care,” Quinn hums back nonchalantly. Within a few seconds, Rachel feels a warm body wrap around her smaller form, and she leans into the strong frame instinctively. Quinn nuzzles into her neck, a smile pressed against her skin. “You’re just so _precious_ , Rachel Berry.”

“Yeah yeah,” Rachel grumbles good-naturedly in an attempt to combat the flush across her neck. “Now, I believe that I was promised _Funny Girl_ and cuddles.”

“When did that happen?” Quinn questions, a look of innocence that isn’t fooling anybody adorned. When Rachel huffs and tries to fold her arms, the Cheerio keeps her in place with a wry laugh. “You know, if you wanted cuddles, you could’ve just _asked_.”

With one last heaving sigh, Rachel acquiesces. “But we’re still watching _Funny Girl_.”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else Rae,” Quinn chuckles, and Rachel feels a nudge at her leg. “Now move, lazy ass.”

“You’re going to forcefully pick me up anyway,” she tries to sulk. (It probably comes out way too pleased, but she’s good at compartmentalization, so she ignores it.)

She feels a wry quirk of lips ghost right at her shoulder blade, and she shudders with a pleasant shiver. Quinn husks into her ear, “Someone’s getting spoiled.”

“I was born an only child, blame my parents,” she says, breathy and rushed. A flicker of bravery rises up in her heart, and she turns around so that she’s standing face to face with Quinn, staring right into hazel. “And I’m not good at sharing either, so for your sake I better be the only one you carry around.”

“Mm, don’t worry,” Quinn inflects in response as she leans in tantalizingly closer, warm breath panting against Rachel’s ear. “I always devote all my… _attention_ to the things that interest me.”

Rachel’s breath lifts. “And… _I_ interest you?”

“Why, you just might be the most captivating of them all,” Quinn drawls, voice the embodiment of liquid sex. Rachel _swears_ that she feels lips brush against the shell of her ear, just so, and then there’s a steady hum emitting from the girl pressed up against her. “I gotta give you a fair warning though, I’m a _very_ needy person.”

A beat passes, stolen right from Rachel’s heart, and then without another second, they’re wound together tightly, breast to breast and hip to hip. There’s no mistaking the shift in the air, and Rachel can’t think straight, enraptured in pools of hazel. “When I give someone all of my attention…I _command_ all of theirs.”

“I-I can do that,” Rachel whispers as she tries to keep her footing, knees week and lightheaded as she’s faced with the tornado that is Quinn Fabray, hazel eyes and all.

“Yeah?” Quinn’s hand reaches up to toy with the hem of Rachel’s shirt, and if it’s possible for someone’s heart to literally beat out of their chest, then that would be what would happen next, rendering Rachel out of breath and with a whirlwind of emotions as she gets herself together enough to nod. Quinn smirks, looking all too pleased. “Good answer.”

And just like that, the blonde lets go and steps away without a beat, smirk still firmly in place as she dances away and out of the door, ass swaying. “Unfortunately for you, I have to go change my bandages.”

It takes Rachel five seconds to realize what the fuck just happened, and it takes another two for her to compartmentalize it all.

Three seconds later, her eyes widen in indignation, and she calls out downstairs, “Quinn Fabray, why was I not notified that they had to be changed!”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

After a firm whack to Quinn’s head and a change of bandages – of which she surprisingly hadn’t been teased like no tomorrow during – later, they settle in to watch _Funny Girl_ , Quinn providing her with as many cuddles as she wants.

Rachel takes care not to press any of her weight on the head cheerleader’s injured arm, not caring about Quinn’s insistence that she’s completely fine, and she snuggles even closer under the pretense of the throw blanket they shared not being big enough, practically nestling herself on the girl’s lap.

The smirk sent her way tells her that Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing, but she isn’t a master of being willfully oblivious for nothing, so like all of the revelations that she had today, it’s pushed away to the back of her mind, and she continues silently mouthing every line of dialogue there is in the movie.

It takes around seven minutes for her to realize that Quinn’s staring at her, and she blushes, snapping her mouth shut. “Why aren’t you paying attention to Barbra?”

“’S nothing,” the blonde shows her signature half-smirk. “You’re just really cute when you’re mouthing along to the movie.”

That stops her right in her tracks, and she glances down. “Finn used to tell me it was creepy.”

“Finn’s a dick, so?”

Rachel can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of her throat, and she covers her mouth with her hand. “That was mean.”

“I’m a mean person.” Quinn raises an eyebrow, challenging her, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

“You’re a protective person, there’s a difference,” she points out.

Quinn shrugs, and a devious smirk quirks on her lips. “Still better than Finnsolent.”

Rachel doesn’t bother to appear contrite about her laughter this time, and she shakes her head fondly. “Yeah,” she agrees, “You’re definitely better than him.”

Quinn’s smirk turns smug, and the arm Rachel’s tucked under tightens. She moves closer to the cheerleader willingly and goes back to the movie with a dumb grin, still not really sure how she got here.

But even through the movie to the end of it, as Barbra belts out _My Man_ , the little voice in her head still lingers, the little voice that’s whispering a word that starts with c and ends with rush, and she doesn’t even care that much anymore.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Later, when they’re playing a rather mediocre movie and neither of them can be bothered to move to change it, they start talking about random things again.

They end up talking about what song would represent the other, and Quinn pauses to think for a while, before she answers with a cheeky grin. “Stockholm Syndrome, One Direction.”

Rachel frowns and pouts immediately, lightly kicking at the blonde’s calf. “Fine, then your song is Camila Cabello’s She Loves Control!” she retorts, huffing.

“That’s…pretty accurate, actually,” Quinn says a while after remembering the lyrics, an amused expression in place.

Rachel folds her arms together in frustration, pulling away from the blonde and turning away with a loud hmpf, but Quinn laughs and wraps her arms around the diva’s waist, pulling them both down into the couch before finally deciding, “Halo. Happy now?”

It takes a moment for it to kick in, but when it does and all the implications of that rush to the forefront of her mind, she almost wishes that s0he didn’t ask Quinn for her answer in the first place, because _dammit_ , it’s getting harder and harder to ignore her growing affection for the blonde with every beat and second that passes, and Quinn is not making it easy for her to get over it _at all_.

“You were my halo when we performed that song,” she remembers, a soft tilt to her voice.

“I was,” Quinn hums. “You really should applaud me for keeping up with you vitamin-D junkies, and I was _pregnant_ then too.”

“I’m not the one who told me to ‘fuck off’ when I enquired about your well-being,” Rachel grumbles, and when Quinn opens her mouth, she continues, “And if you give me another one of those ‘I’m sorry’ speeches, I _will_ give you the silent treatment for ten minutes, don’t think I won’t.”

Yes, ten minutes is as far as she can go. And yes, she’s pathetic, she knows.

“We’ll see what the FABRAY squad will have to say about that,” Quinn just smirks at her, and Rachel simply bundles closer to the blonde with a fond smile.

They burn through movies quickly, and it doesn’t even seem like an hour has passed when it’s time for dinner. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to cook dinner?” Quinn quirks her brow.

“Is your arm still hurting?”

“I mean, you’re leaning on it and it’s kinda burning right now, but it’s cool.”

Rachel narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Quinn drawls, laughter evident in her eyes.

“You’ve been carrying me around all day, there’s no way.”

“I have a high pain tolerance,” Quinn shrugs at her.

“Wait, are you serious?” Rachel gawps, voice taking on a higher and higher hue with each word spoken. “You should have told me it was hurting, Quinn Fabray I can’t believe-”

“How are you so sweet and gullible?” She’s cut off by Quinn laughing, looking at her with bright eyes.

Rachel huffs, “Rest assured I’m never worrying about you ever again.”

She moves to sit further away from the blonde, but Quinn’s arms keep her in place. “I’ll cook vegan food for you to make up for it.”

“You better,” Rachel pouts.

Quinn gets up to go the kitchen, and she’s tempted to follow, but she’s pretty sure that if she was to witness something as domestic as Quinn Fabray cooking, she would combust and all her compartmentalization would be for naught, so she stays at the couch instead, already missing the warmth of having Quinn’s body next to her.

“You planning on reading all my deepest darkest secrets in my journal?” Quinn asks, lips quirked.

“Depends,” Rachel pauses as if to think. “How juicy are those secrets exactly?”

“Oh they’re _something_ alright,” Quinn snorts, before something else dawns on her face, soft in a way that Rachel can’t quite identify. “Just…don’t mention what you read to me later. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says lightly, to which Quinn chuckles.

“You’re sure of a lot of things,” the blonde shakes her head. “You can take the journals up to number nine back home if you want to. But _only_ till number nine.”

The blonde’s out of the living room before Rachel gets a chance to reply, and shaking her head to clear her rampant thoughts, she reaches into her bag to pull out Quinn’s journal, making sure to handle it carefully.

Settling onto the couch to make herself comfy – she intends on devoting her utmost attention to the journal, thank you very much – and flipping open the cover, she sees the words ‘ _Quinn Elise Fabray_ ’ written on the inner cover in clean golden script, with _2001-2002_ below it. If her math is right, that means that this was somewhere when Quinn was seven to eight, and Rachel turns the page with a bated breath, unconsciously leaning in closer with an eager curiosity to know more.

Quinn’s writing is unpolished and rough in the beginning, ranging from short stories to throwaway thoughts to poems, but they all carry a certain innocence to them, light and hopeful unlike the somewhat cynical and pessimistic Quinn she knows, and it keeps Rachel on her toes, wondering what exactly had happened to make the honor-roll student the way she was during freshman year.

That thought is casted aside though as she marvels at the pace Quinn’s writing evolves and improves. With no time at all, the stories progressively become longer and longer, filling up the pages like no else. Even with the limited vocabulary and sometimes stilted flow that a seven-year-old is bound to encounter, the stories draw her in, and she finds herself enraptured in the little worlds that the blonde had built, Quinn’s ability to bend words to her will beautiful and incredible.

The stories are about the strangest of things, things that not necessarily make sense when taken out of the abstract, but the underlying current of intelligence and curiosity is apparent, thoughtful and yet dry in a way that is so completely _Quinn_ , and when Rachel gets to the final pages of the book, she has to blink multiple times to register that there aren’t any more pages to turn, and she lets out a breath, not even realizing that she had gone through the entire journal in barely half an hour.

An alluring scent comes out from the kitchen, and once again, Rachel has to resist the urge to watch Quinn cook, knowing that she’d probably jump the blonde right then and there if she does. Letting out a breath to clear her thoughts, she goes upstairs to Quinn’s bedroom to put back the journal, and she doesn’t bother to go back downstairs to start reading the second one, instead plopping down on the bed to go through it, this time marked with _2003, January to July._

It starts out fine, continuing the series of narrative that Quinn had left off in the last one, but then, on the day of Quinn’s birthday, there’s a strange haiku, darker than usual in a way that sends warning bells through Rachel’s head.

 _There’s a loud shatter_  
_A hitch of breath, a skipped beat_  
_The dark welcomes me_

Furrowing her brow and trying not to jump to conclusions, she shrugs her thoughts away and reads on, telling herself that it was just Quinn experimenting with darker tones and feelings and that there was nothing to worry about.

Blinking rapidly with her heart now thumping at the speed of light in her chest, she flips to the next page with an urgency that surprises even herself, eyes scanning through the progressively getting darker and more twisted words.

She reads about hurt and numbness and _pain_ , about how it feels to be thrown away over and over again, and the way Quinn writes about it is so _raw_ that Rachel feels it resonate deep inside her chest, a fear of _why_ exactly the words read out like Quinn had experienced it first-hand running amok through her mind.

Russell wouldn’t have- no way. He wouldn’t.

But a large chunk of the writing is about volatile men and little girls who couldn’t protect themselves, and it honestly _scares_ her, to think that Russell would’ve laid a hand on-

 _No,_ she thinks, _Stop that train of thought right the_ fucking _now._

When she gets to the story about how a girl named Alice was beaten by her father and left all alone in a field, dying alone with her last thought being that this could’ve all been avoided if she was just good enough, she can’t deny it anymore.

 _Fuck_.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

This story takes up a lot of pages, and when she finishes it, there’s only the last page left. Tasting the bitter copper of her blood on her lips, she realizes that she had bitten down on her lip so hard she had broke skin, and running her tongue over the offended skin, she tries her best to regulate her breathing and turns the page, only to be met with a single haiku.

 _If science is love_  
_Then calculation was wrong_  
_God’s biggest mistake_

In the two journals Rachel had read, Quinn had never mentioned anything about God. The same Quinn, who said that losing her faith was one of her first breaking points.

Without a second beat, she’s rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen, the journal held up in her hand as she looks at Quinn, breathless. “What is this?”

Quinn freezes, before her face arranges itself into a neutral expression. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Rachel.”

“Don’t stall,” she says, shaking her head. “Please.”

Pursing her lips, after a beat Quinn finally gives her a small nod. “That year, when I turned 9, Francine left for University…And then, I guess without her there, Russell set his sights on me completely.” The blonde swallows and hesitates here, debating if she should continue or not. “On my ninth birthday, he got a bit more drunk than usual, and he became…violent.”

The words seem to bring time to a halt, and the color drains from Rachel’s face. “Quinn.”

When the cheerleader doesn’t reply, looking away instead with an unreadable expression that seems resentful and embarrassed and just plain sad all at once, Rachel can’t seem to get her thoughts straight. “ _Quinn_ ,” she pleads, _begs_. “Tell me he didn’t.”

The blonde curls into herself, and she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Quinn Fabray don’t you _dare_ be sorry for that!” She snaps her head up immediately to force hazel to meet chestnut brown. “I-I need to know. _Please_.”

Quinn’s face contorts into something raw and pained, and Rachel almost regrets asking, heart aching for the girl. “Once or twice a year,” she admits. “But it was only a few punches and slaps, nothing out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” Rachel can barely see apart from the red clouding her vision. “He _abused_ you!”

“Drop it, Rachel!” Quinn snaps, eyes shining and vulnerable. “Just…drop it, Rachel. For me, okay?”

Rachel can only nod, heart still thundering in her ribcage loudly. “You’re right,” she says, “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

“Rae no, you didn’t- It’s just-” Quinn shakes her head furiously, tone frustrated. “Look, I promised you that I’d tell you everything one day, but I-I can’t- I just _can’t_ right now.”

She feels her chest simultaneously expand and contract as it pangs with pain at the sight of the cheerleader looking so distraught. “Okay,” she says finally, breathing out through her nose. “Okay. But…can I hug you?”

Quinn surprises them both with a laugh. “You make it sound like you’re the one who’s in emotional distress.”

“Your emotional distress is _my_ emotional distress,” Rachel shrugs, and the implications of that don’t occur to her until she’s said it out loud and Quinn’s staring at her with wide eyes.

The next thing she knows, she’s being wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug and she barely has enough time to remind the blonde to watch out for her arm before a kiss is pressed to the top of her head. “You’re perfect Rae,” Quinn breathes out, eyes closed. “Absolutely _perfect_.”

As Quinn pulls away slightly, Rachel can feel her breath hitch, and it becomes that much harder to deny the fact that she’s utterly smitten with Quinn Fabray.

It’s at that exact moment that the oven timer goes off, and that train of thought is stopped, but maybe that’s for the best.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

What _isn’t_ for the best though, is how Quinn’s cooking tastes like ambrosia, like as if Rachel needs more reasons to crush on her.

Which, she isn’t, and that last sentence was just a fabrication of her mind.

Really, at this point Rachel should just expect Quinn to be perfect at pretty much _everything_ , but still, sometimes all she wants to do is find whatever deity out there that had made such an amazing human being and either thank them or curse them.

_You just want to find out if her kissing technique is as perfect as the rest of her. But then again, Finn and Puck’s reports say that it is, so we don’t have to worry._

_Ew, I didn’t need that mental image at all!_

_And also because you want her all to yourself, but denial-land is a powerful thing, I suppose._

_Shut up. Just…shut up._

_Yeah, our mouth could_ definitely _be better off used_ elsewhere _, if you catch my drift._

_One of these days I’m going to hire a demon hunter and exorcise you._

_Oh please, don’t act like you don’t enjoy our lovely fantasies, for example kissing that smirk off Quinn’s sexy as fuck face._

_Wait…why is she smirking?_

_I believe it’s because of the drool on our face._

_What- Oh crap she’s talking to us!_

“So you remember that favor you owe me? So I was thinking we could turn these sleepovers into a thing, since you always fall asleep here anyway.”

 _Woohoo! I don’t know_ how _we managed that, but we’re going to be falling in bed with Quinn Fabray!_

 _No, dammit! If we do that, we’ll just end up being attracted to her even more! I mean,_ physical _attraction, of course._

 _Sure Berry, if it makes you sleep at night. Plus, I’d like to see you_ try _to resist a Quinn Fabray who wants something._

 _It can’t be_ that _hard- Oh shit she’s leaning forward and we can almost see her boobs!_

_Daymn, those look delectable, good luck trying to say no, ha!_

_I am strong-willed and determined, I won’t crumble that easily, I refuse to!_

_Hey Rachel?_

_…What?_

_Look at Quinn’s collarbone._

_Ugh, why did you do that, now all I’m doing is looking at it, why the fuck does it look so smooth?_

_I don’t care if you’re in denial-land, but I need a little something-something to survive, and that_ won’t _happen if we don’t get the ball rolling sometime this century. Think of me as your fairy godmother moving this along, trust me, you’ll be thanking me._

_The day I thank you will be the day- Fuck she’s talking to us again!_

“Rae?”

“…Kay.”

_Wow, incredible job. What happened to resisting her?_

You _try doing that when she’s calling you Rae and giving you those puppy eyes!_

_Hey, I’m not complaining, we can finally get some now!_

_No no no no no no! We’ll probably end up molesting her in the middle of the night!_

_That’s the entire_ point _, dumdum._

_I need help._

_Oh, I’m sure Quinn could help with our little_ problem _, alright._

_Bi-rry!_

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Bedtime approaches all too soon, and as she semi-freaks out while finishing her nightly routine in the bathroom, she exhales and shakes her head. “Calm down Rachel.”

When she heads back to Quinn’s room, she finds the blonde staring at her opened overnight bag, and she walks closer to see what the blonde’s looking at.

Quinn reaches into the bag, and with the bottle of hand softener held up, she turns to Rachel with pained eyes. “Do you- Did- Is it because-”

Rachel looks away and bites her lip. “Yes,” she says stiffly.

“I-I’m-” Quinn sounds out, but Rachel’s eyes snap up to her, daring her to apologize. “Your hands are perfect the way they are, okay? Soft and smooth and not mannish at all.”

When she doesn’t reply, simply hugging herself with her eyes once again trained on the floor, Quinn sighs. “Do you want another hug?”

“Yes please,” she quietly whispers, mutely nodding.

Soon enough, long and slender arms are wrapped around her midsection and a cheek is nuzzling into her hair. “I feel like _you’re_ the one who’s enjoying this more,” she teases in an attempt to lift the mood. “Who knew Quinn Fabray to be so tactile, and a cuddler no less?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Quinn shrugs as best as she can while locked in a tight hug, a secretive edge full of promise to her voice. “But I’m hoping one day, you’ll let me show it _all_ to you.”

Just like that, Rachel’s breath is stolen away, and the only reply she can manage to muster is a light nod. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind though, and she gently nudges her towards the bed. “Come on Berry.” The blonde grins at her with that special beaming smile that Rachel’s only ever seen when they’re alone. “Allow me the honor of seeing how the moonlight kisses your skin, and I will guard your liabilities of the night, allowing your sunlight to illuminate my vision once more.”

“You’re a friggin wordsmith I swear,” Rachel tries to keep her blush down, but like always, it doesn’t work, and the bashful smile that tugs at her lips stretches across her entire face.

“Beautiful words for a beautiful girl,” Quinn winks at her, before pulling her onto the bed. “Now sleep Berry, I’ve been carrying you around all day and I’m sore – and no, I don’t need painkillers or anything, I’m perfectly fine medically-wise.”

Rachel’s smile turns sheepish, even though she’s already hyperventilating inside as she gets under the covers, because fuck fuck fuck she’s going to be sleeping in a bed together with Quinn Fabray!

Quinn Fabray, who also happens to be the most sexy thing she’s ever laid eyes on, and who Rachel’s beginning to realize that her attraction to is going way beyond physical.

“Rae, you’re thinking too loud,” Quinn informs her with a sleepy yawn and a cute frown. “Go to sleep.”

“So you can murder me in the middle of the night?” Rachel tries to misdirect.

“I want to cuddle with you in the middle of the night, but close enough, so stop stalling Rachel.” Quinn evidently isn’t deterred, and she props herself up on her elbow. “Tell me what you’re thinking Superstar.”

The concern and genuine want to help that shows Quinn’s face just makes Rachel’s heart swell up with affection, and she sighs as she stares at the beige of the ceiling. “I’m thinking that…you’re amazing, Quinn.”

There’s a beat, and then “I’m far from that Rae,” is the dry reply that comes from beside her.

“No, you’re not.” She heads her head. “You’re always so sweet and kind and _thoughtful_ , randomly giving me poems and showering me in compliments, and you’re like the bestest friend I’ve ever had. I just- I…What did I do to deserve you?”

In a blink of an eye, she’s turned on her side so that she’s face to face with Quinn, who’s looking at her with such disbelief and compassion that it throws her off-kilter for a few seconds. “What did you do to deserve me? What did _I_ do to deserve _you_?” Quinn scoffs at herself. “Time and time again you’ve reached out to me when no one else would, and-” The blonde stops for a second here, lips quirking up as if she thinks this is somehow humorous. “You’re literally the _only_ person in the world who would give me a second chance after all I’ve done, Rae. You’re _special_ , Rachel Berry, and I can only thank the stars for granting me the chance to gaze upon one of their own, so don’t you forget that, okay?”

Rachel is swept off her feet and left breathless, the air seemingly been taken out of her by the utter _angel_ that Quinn is. There’s a lightness in her chest that seems to float airily, and she thinks that, _this is it_ , that she can’t deny it anymore.

All the little moments and thoughts and feelings just come rushing at her out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time, and she feels as if the swell in her chest is both freeing and weighty, flowing all over her body with jolts of warmth and electricity that makes her head spin in all the best ways possible.

“You’re my star Rae,” Quinn continues, blind to her internal plight. “You light up my entire world, and without you, all it would be is a barren wasteland. I don’t worry about confessing things to you because I know that you cherish and accept me for who I am, and you just make me so happy, so unbelievably _happy_ that I hate that you would think so little of yourself. You, Rachel Barbra Berry, are my Superstar, and I will forever be grateful that you gave me the chance to be your friend.”

“I…I-” Rachel can’t seem to muster up a reply, but Quinn simply presses a soft kiss to her temple, a languid smile on her face as if something had been lifted from her chest.

“Now go to sleep Berry,” the blonde sleepily sighs out, cuddling Rachel into her neck. “You’ve got an amazing road ahead of you, and you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

Yeah. Rachel’s definitely utterly and completely infatuated with Quinn Fabray.

 

**x.X.x**

Somewhere through the night, the warmth of Quinn’s body proves to be too much even for Rachel’s worrywart tendencies, and she doesn’t even remember closing her eyes and letting sleep take her.

But she does wake up earlier than the blonde, Quinn somehow programmed to sleep in on weekends instead of waking at 5am for Cheerios, so when she’s awoken by the soft sunlight coming in through the curtains, she’s met with the sight of Quinn Fabray, waves of blonde hair cascading down her gorgeous framed face and a content smile tugging on her lips as she seems to glow along with the sunlight.

Quinn looks absolutely relaxed, the usual creases in her face gone, and Rachel thinks that she looks so much more _beautiful_ like this, tranquil and without a care in the world. When her train of thought progresses naturally to the fact that she wants to wake up like this for the rest of her life, wrapped up in Quinn Fabray’s arms, it only reinforces the revelation that she had had last night.

She has the biggest crush on the blonde ever, and she has no idea what to do about it.

“Rae, it’s 6am, go back to sleep,” Quinn mummers into her hair, her voice rough from sleep, and it sends tingles right down Rachel’s spine and into her stomach.

Well, this ought to be good.

 

**x.X.x**

 

Quinn goes back to sleep easily enough, and after a long period of blinking her eyes and trying to get her thoughts to calm, Rachel resigns herself to the fact that she won’t be following the Cheerio into slumber anytime soon, and slowly, she disentangles herself from Quinn, their limbs so intertwined that it takes a good minute to do so.

It only sends another pang of longing and _something_ right into her heart, and she exhales, heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth and freshen up.

Once she’s done, she finds Quinn still sleeping on the bed, hugging to her chest the unused pillow that Rachel was supposed to sleep on last night but ended up migrating to Quinn’s instead. The image is just so stinking cute that Rachel can’t help the smile that forces its way to her lips, and she sighs. _Yeah I really am crushing on her hard, aren’t I?_

_I’d say that it’s definitely more than that, but hey, we’re finally getting somewhere, so I’m not complaining._

_You know, some comforting words would reeeaaally be nice sometime this minute._

_Yeah, and some sex would really be nice sometime this minute, but look where we at bitch. You want advice? Okay, here’s mine: Kiss her. Tell her we love her. And then proceed to let her fuck us until we’re walking sideways. Absolute A-Grade plan._

_What? Who said anything about love?_

_…Great, here we go again. Just go downstairs and have breakfast, I don’t have the patience to deal with you._

_You’re literally me!_

_A more self-aware, smarter you, that’s for sure._

Shrugging off her internal monologuing alter ego, Rachel forces her thoughts to the back of her mind, and she shakes her head, going downstairs to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

She’s entirely not prepared for the sight of Judy Fabray, wearing casual clothes and humming as she makes pancakes.

Rachel doesn’t know whether to worry about her loose T-shirt and shorts or whether to freak out because- hello, she’s meeting Quinn Fabray’s mom!

Unfortunately for her, the decision is taken away as Judy notices her and sends her a bright smile. “Good morning dear, it’s Rachel, right?” She chuckles. “Oh who am I kidding, you’re definitely Rachel. Would you like some pancakes?”

“I- I’m vegan,” Rachel brings herself to stutter out, completely out of her depth and frankly, terrified, especially because she’s barely had enough time to process the fact that she has a crush on Quinn, and now she’s already at the ‘meeting-the-parents’ stage.

That thought only then just registers in her brain, and she internally freaks out even more. Does this actually count as ‘meeting-the-parents’, or is she overthinking everything, and really she has to reply sometime soon or she’ll make her (presumably already bad) impression even worse!

(She doesn’t even bother freaking out over the fact that Quinn Fabray’s mom apparently ‘definitely’ knows her.)

“I know, Quinn’s told me.” Judy simply continues to smile at her, expression something that Rachel can’t quite decipher. (Damn those poker-faced Fabrays!) “So is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes ma’am,” she hastily replies, damned if she didn’t remember her manners. “Thank you, and it’s- it’s nice to meet you. Uh…Quinn talks about me?”

“It’s Judy dear,” the elder Fabray says as she hands her a plate, eyes warm. “And you have no idea how much Quinnie does, it’s always Rachel-this and Rachel-that, I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”

Rachel tries not to have her hands shake too much as she receives the plate of pancakes, and she nervously bites her lip. “All good things, I hope,” she laughs anxiously.

Judy laughs along with her, a hearty sound. “She doesn’t seem to know how to stop, really. She’s always raving on and on about your singing, you really have to give me a private demonstration sometime soon.”

“Oh, of course,” Rachel perks up, feeling more confident now that her comfort topic of singing has been brought up. “I would have to set up an appropriate date so that my vocal chords can be properly warmed up, but I would gladly perform for Quinn’s mother.”

“You seem to like Quinn a lot,” Judy points out, a secretive smile in place, and Rachel panics a little. _Is she onto me?_ The older woman doesn’t seem to notice her inner dread, continuing, “It’s a good thing too, she needs someone like you to keep her grounded. Do you know that she feels-”

“Hey Rae,” a voice rings out from behind her, and within a second, arms are wrapped around her waist with sleepy movements. “Why’d you leave, come back to bed.”

Rachel lets out a squeak of alarm, eyes widening at Judy’s amused expression, and she whispers, “Quinn…You are aware that your mother is standing right there, are you not?”

“I believe you have to leave for work Mom,” Quinn says without an eyelash batted.

“Why, my own daughter!” Judy shakes her head in disbelief, though there’s definite lift to her voice, and Rachel watches in morbid fascination as the mother and daughter interact, bantering with each other in a way that is odd and dry.

Quinn makes a comment on how old Judy is and Judy retorts with a snappy comeback, but the most intriguing thing is that all of it is spoken with a definite air of politeness and practiced barbs. Rachel thinks that this might be how nobles would speak, and the feeling she gets when she realizes that this is basically how the Fabray family was brought up settles on her chest in a weird way.

“Mother, I’d hate to alarm you, but you’re scaring our guest.” Quinn’s eyebrow quirks, and the slight pout in her tone gives Rachel a hard time stifling her smile.

“I’d assume that you’re the one doing that when you’re all but glued to her like a Fabray clinging onto a rich man, dear,” Judy drawls with her brow raised that tells Rachel where Quinn had perfected it from, uncanny in its likiness.

Quinn sighs with a faux air of one that of a ruffled bird. “I would have to hate to drag to you another GLAAD meeting, so should I?”

The mention of Quinn’s gayness and all the implications that follow doesn’t seem to faze her mom, only Rachel. “Only if you doubt your mother.”

“And I would never do that.” Quinn shakes her head solemnly, though Rachel is sure that she can see pink lips quirk upwards from the corner of her eye.

“Of course not,” Judy smiles with the edge of it turned in a way that means she’s deeply amused in Fabray-speak. (Rachel ignores the fact that she’s spent so much time with Quinn she even knows what every lip-quirk and brow-twitch means.)

“Now, I still believe that you have to leave for work?”

“Ah, you’re so eager to get rid of me, kids these days, honestly.”

“I’m simply ensuring that you’re getting to your appointments on time like a good daughter would, no need to cause such upheaval, mother.” Quinn shrugs, sounding way too innocence for Rachel’s liking.

“Well, a good daughter would bring Rachel around more, so you better get to that.”

“I swear that you spend more time thinking about Rachel more than me these days,” Quinn sighs, and when Rachel looks behind her, a full-blown pout meets her, some of the Fabray mask coming off.

Judy doesn’t seem to care though. “I like to think of you two as an entity at this point, really. Rachel practically has an invisible seat at the table, the way you talk about her so much, as if it’s almost like you’re neglecting your poor old mother.”

“Rachel’s there to fill our cold dead empty house,” Quinn deadpans, moving out of the way so that Judy can pass through to get to the door.

“The very same house that is so cold and empty because _you_ refuse to help decorate, mind you.”

“You’re going to be late for work mom.”

“I’m leaving now dear, don’t look so pleased, will you?” Judy calls from the doorway as she shakes her head. “Be nice to Rachel, okay?”

“Oh trust me, I’ll be plenty _nice_ ,” Quinn snickers in response.

“Of course you will. Rachel dear, come back soon, we really ought to have dinner one of these days.”

“Yeah yeah, she knows Mom,” Quinn grumbles good-naturely, throwing away the pretense of polite banter. “Now seriously, don’t blame me when you’re late.”

When Judy is finally ushered out the door, Rachel turns to Quinn with a jaw-gaped look. “What just happened?”

Quinn simply smiles wryly at her. “That, my dear Superstar, is Fabray-speech, with most of the snark and hostility taken away. Fun, no?”

 

**x.X.x**

As Quinn had called in her favor (more like forcefully enforcing it by way of seduction), Calc Fridays turn into Movie Weekends, and Rachel has even less time to deal with her epiphany that she has a crush on Quinn.

By that, she means that she had screamed into her pillow, cried into it, smiled into it, and screamed into it once more. She reckons that it works, judging by the cleared feeling in her chest.

Of course, she had made sure that her screams were perfectly in tune so as to preserve her wonderful voice.

It’s after the third Movie Weekend that her fathers call her down for a ‘talk’, and she’s instantly on guard.

Walking down the stairs with a cautious look, she strides into the living room. “Hello fathers,” she greets, ever so polite. “What may I do for you today?”

“We want to have Quinn over for dinner.”

The words drain into Rachel, and she unconsciously pales. “What?”

“Well, you’ve been spending so much time over at her place, and we want to know her more,” Leroy shrugs. “It’s only natural for us to want to see who our daughter is getting close to.”

A million excuses rushes to the forefront of her mind (because a dinner with her fathers and Quinn would qualify as a ‘meeting-the-parents’ situation, and that would mess with her psych even more dammit!), but before she has the chance to blurt them all out, Hiram says, “Look Rachel, you’re always talking about how amazing Quinn is, and we just want to see it for ourselves. Please?”

 _Don’t give in, don’t give in,_ she chants religiously. But then Hiram aims the Berry signature puppy eyes at her.

She agrees.

 _Oh you’re going to have a field day explaining this to Quinn_ , Bi-rry crackles in the back of her mind.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

“Sure,” Quinn agrees when Rachel asks her on Monday. “We can eat dinner together tomorrow at your house if it’s fine on their side.”

Rachel’s eyes bulge a bit, and with a desperate edge to her voice, she says (or more like screeches), “What? But don’t you have some hesitations or other things to do?”

“I want to meet your dads, it’ll be fun.”

…Fuck she’s so dead. Help.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

She practically is bouncing with nervous energy as they approach the door to her house, where she knows that her dads are definitely waiting for them. “Are we seriously going to do this?” she asks.

“We don’t if you really don’t want to but…I want to meet the people who managed to bring up someone as amazing as you,” Quinn softly smiles, and Rachel practically overloads with sweetness.

“They’re going to embarrass me,” she points out, as one last feeble attempt to get Quinn to change her mind.

“I’m sure Judy will provide you with enough baby pictures to make up for it.”

“I’m sure you were one of those perfect babies anyway,” Rachel grumbles.

It’s at that moment that her dads open the door to greet them, and she groans quietly, earning a laugh from the blonde next to her. “You’ll be fine, stop worrying,” Quinn chuckles. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be doing that anyway, I feel like I’m about to be interrogated.”

“Well you sure don’t _look_ like it.”

“Trust me Berry, this is all the work of me practicing my etiquette in front of a mirror last night.”

She doesn’t have any time to contemplate that answer any further before Hiram is ushering them in, and they’re whisked into the living room in a matter of seconds.

“Good evening sirs,” Quinn greets with a smile, the kind that Rachel knows is her ‘charming’ smile, closed-lipped and just the right angle. “My name is Quinn Fabray, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Seeming to pull out a bag out of nowhere (or maybe that was just Rachel being too busy with her gaping jaw), she presents it to the two Berrymen. “I brought some gifts, if you don’t mind. I wanted to thank you very much for raising such an amazing daughter and welcoming me into your wonderful home.”

There’s a dumbfounded silence, and then Leroy is smiling widely and Hiram is basically squealing so loudly the neighbours can hear. “She’s so polite,” Hiram whisper-screeches into Leroy’s ear. “I like her.”

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Leroy says purposely loudly as if to intimidate Quinn, though Rachel can tell from the twinkle in his eye that he’s very much taken by the blonde as well.

Taking the bag into his hands, his smile gives him away. “You really didn’t have to Quinn.”

“I wanted to though,” Quinn shrugs in reply. “Plus, nothing will ever be thank you enough for letting me be Rachel’s friend, Mr. Berry.”

At this, Rachel huffs up in indignation – like she would ever let her parents dictate who she could or couldn’t be friends with – but it’s obvious it goes over well with her fathers, who seem to have permanent smiles etched onto their faces.

 “It’s Leroy and Hiram, Quinn,” Hiram grins. “Don’t you think that it would get confusing calling us both sir or Mr. Berry?”

“Then I’ll call Leroy sir and you Mr. Berry, if that’s alright,” Quinn replies back without a beat, which just makes the approval in Leroy’s eyes glow brighter. (And as for Hiram? Well, Rachel’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating from being too excited, so she supposes that’s a good a win as any.)

Rachel supposes that the last hurdle is their dinner, which doesn’t seem so bad now.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Correction, it’s bad. So very, very, bad.

Because Quinn charms her parents’ pants off, and Rachel’s crush grows even bigger if it’s even possible.

Throughout dinner, Quinn laughs and speaks in all the appropriate places, able to banter back unlike Finn who had just sat awkwardly the entire time, and the cheerleader keeps Hiram and Leroy laughing heartily the entire time with her well-timed jokes and antidotes.

Rachel knows that she’s berry much screwed, but when Quinn presses a kiss to her cheek as a goodbye when she leaves that night, saying another one of her signature well-crafted wordshots (yes, that’s what she’s labelling them now) and leaving the entire Berry family taken, Rachel finds that it terrifies her less than before, because the warmth that spreads from her heart to her entire body can’t be anything but comforting,

 _Well_ , she thinks. _It’s official. I definitely have a giant-ass crush on Quinn Fabray, and it’s not going away anytime soon._

 _Oh, you’re just figuring this out_ now _?_

_At least it’ll be one for the memoirs, I suppose._

_Yup, titled ‘How I’m fucking gay for Quinn Fabray and her gorgeous abs’._

_Stop it, dammit! And…I’d have more class than_ that _._

_Yeah yeah, your prudish ways would probably result in something like ‘How Quinn Fabray caused my nether regions to tingle by using her feminine wiles and made me want to sit on her delicious face’._

_Ugh!_

_Feels a whole lot like our sexual frustration, doesn’t it?_

_I’m going to cut you off someday._

_What, like you cut off our masturbation sessions because you couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn?_

_…Well, now that I’ve admitted that I like her, I wouldn’t be as…_ adverse _to doing such things._

 _Bitch why would you- Wait, you said_ yes _? What the fuck what happened to you- Actually, I don’t care, orgasms, YES!_

_No! I mean, I just said that I would be less averse to thinking and maybe…fantasizing about Quinn._

_Oh, how is that anything different from before!_

_Excuse me, that’s plenty-_

_Fuck it, I’m not dealing with this shit._

_Bi-rry, don’t you dare walk away from me metaphorically!_

_…_

_Bi-rry?_

_…_

_Bi-rry!_

_…_

_Dammit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally longer than the entirety of II. Damn I feel accomplished rn *checks ForForever19’s epic fics* …you know what, never mind, this chapter felt stilted to me anyways. I’m sorry for the late-ish update, editing took waaay too long.


	11. V. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where St. Jackass shows up and we all wanna burn Russie boi on a stick. I don't even know lol

**V.**

****

Quinn’s streak of possessiveness slash protectiveness just grows from there, and between Finn, Karofsky, Cheerios, Finn, Puck, and Finn, Rachel kinda loses track of all of the times that it happens.

One thing that doesn’t change though, is how horny she gets every time. Neither does the confusiom part either, because now she’s going crazy thinking if it actually _means_ something and she’s been stressing out all day long.

She starts reading into Quinn’s little thoughtful actions like no tomorrow, even more so than before, and now that she’s so much more aware of her heightened feelings, it’s like everything is worse and yet better at the same time, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to die from blushing at Quinn’s flirty responses at this rate.

And speaking of which, remember those Gardenias that Quinn gave her? After putting them in a vase with fresh water, she looked them up.

It fucking means ‘ _secret love_ ’.

Yeah, having a crush on Quinn Fabray is _hard_ , man.

So when Jesse St. James shows up one day with flowers (that _aren’t_ Gardenias) and a plea for forgiveness, she figures that it wouldn’t hurt, just to see if she could get over the blonde.

She lets the boy take her on a date, and it results in…nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

It’s a causal date, just simply meeting at Breadstix to get some food (or in Rachel’s case, salad, salad, and more salad), and with every move Jesse makes, she can’t help but compare it to what Quinn would do in that situation.

Even though Jesse opens the door for her, he doesn’t go the extra mile and pull out her chair, something that Quinn does all the time, even at school, and it’s the first thought that pops into her brain when she sees that.

Well, so much for hoping this crush would fade away soon.

After ordering her salad, she listens to Jesse drone on a long-winded speech of apologies and forgiveness, and she thinks that at least he doesn’t seem like an arrogant stuck up jerk anymore, but then after that’s done, he seems to glide right over to talking about himself.

Rachel fully knows that she too has a tendency to do that, so she tries to push that away, knowing that she’s probably putting too high of a standard on the boy now that she’s gotten used to Quinn’s pampering. She tries to shift the topic to something they both like, like how their vocal training and Broadway is going, and that seems to do the trick as they exchange pleasantries.

It’s fun for a few minutes, the excitement and thrill that discussing Broadway always brings her rushing through her veins, and she throws herself full-heartedly into the conversation, hoping that this can bridge the gap between her comparisons and fill the giant Quinn-shaped hole in her wishlist.

But when they’ve seemed to exhaust all their opinions, seeming to repeat the same topics and things over and over again, that pesky little voice in her head reminds her of how much she misses Quinn, of how much she misses her company, always pleasant no matter what, and it sends a sharp pain to her chest.

_That’s exactly why I have to do this, so that I can get over her,_ she thinks, with a resoluteness that feels forced.

(Deep down, she knows that she doesn’t want to get over the blonde at all, but Jesse’s right _there_ , and he’s attainable, so she shoves it even further down her heart and puts on a show smile for the boy.)

Biting her lip, she asks Jesse about his other aspirations and life goals, and he simply blinks at her, a peculiar look dawned on his face. “Why would I need to have anything more than the stage?”

The words echo into her heart, and an epiphany hits her. That used to be all she wanted too, but…somewhere along the way, her dreams of the stage expanded.

Because now, her dreams don’t just consist of a Broadway stage and an adoring audience. They consist of Quinn cheering her on too, and they consist of visions of Quinn telling her how great she was after the show and taking her home so that they could spend the rest of the night peacefully.

And when she looks deeper down, she realizes that – shit, they also consist of Quinn saying three important words to her, and a small face looking up at them and calling them-

_Fuck_ , stop right there. She can’t do this right now.

Continuing to breathe out through her nose in an attempt her calm her suddenly racing heart, she forces herself to chuckle at Jesse’s answer and agree. But then, it’s like something takes a hold of her, and against her better judgement, she finds herself asking, “But…don’t you have other things you value? Like- Like love, or family, or- or just _happiness_?”

She prays that Jesse won’t fail her. She prays, and she prays, because Quinn had told her that all she wanted was to be happy by making the people she loved happy, and now that conversation plays every night in her head, mocking her and taunting her.

“Rachel, you know even more well than me that the stage is _everything_ ,” Jesse replies with a look of confusion in his eyes. “Why would you want anything else?” He continues to stare at her strangely, and he snaps his fingers after a beat. “You know, you’ve changed Rachel. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but…there’s something different about you.”

Rachel heart drops immediately and her chest collapses on itself, because she knows the answer.

Her change was Quinn. Quinn had come into her life, caused her dreams to shift to accommodate shining hazel eyes, and now because of that, she wants to be happy _with_ Quinn as much as she wants Broadway.

(Maybe even more, but then her stomach feels funny and she feels her throat close up.)

It’s then that she finishes poking at her salad and requests to go home, with a resignation in her mind.

Jesse isn’t Quinn, and Quinn is all she wants.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

 

At the end of the night, when she gets back home with a heart feeling nothing but a sense of heaviness and longing for the blonde, it occurs to her loud and clear, and she spends thirty minutes repeating her scream, cry, smile, and scream again routine. It’s becoming very therapeutic, to her great surprise.

_How about you pretend that the pillow is Quinn and kiss it all day long?_

_Oh har har._

_But seriously, why would we settle for Jesse when we could have Quinn?_

_We_ can’t _have her, that’s the point._

_Says you bitch, have you_ seen _how she gets all hot and sexy when she’s protective over us?_

_She’s just- She’s just very loyal to her own, that’s all._

_Yes, because you’ve seen Quinn do that for Santana Lopez._

_I’m ignoring you now._

_Just like you ignore all the obvious signs? Great._

Tossing and turning in her bed again, she screams into the pillow once more.

_You might wanna book an appointment for ‘My Strange Addiction’._

_Don’t be silly, I don’t have an addiction to my pillow._

_I was talking about Quinn, dumdum._

_I’m not even going to dignify that with a response._

_Says the girl who’s wearing Quinn’s clothes that we stole last time so we can smell her faintly on it._

_Bitch._

_Right back at ya._

X-X-X-X-X

 

Life goes on as usual. Smiling because of Quinn, crying because of Quinn, and screaming because of Quinn. All very standard Rachel Berry reactions, so it’s nothing really to worry about.

It’s almost expected of her to fall in love with the blonde with every moment and beat that passes, because it’s almost like Quinn is slowly upping the ante, with flowers (that are _always_ fucking Gardenias) and poems (that are _always_ fucking about love) recited to her at every turn.

What _isn’t_ expected, however, is how Jesse comes to meet her after school, asking to talk to her alone.

It happens on a Friday, which just pisses her off even more, because Friday is _Quinn and Rachel_ day dammit, and she’s already been trying to limit their time together since she knows that she’ll just end up falling for the blonde even more with more exposure to her.

Of course, her not-so-determined attempts to do so haven’t really carried or gone through well, what with her and Quinn attached to the hip practically all the time, and well – she can’t really bring herself to distance herself from the Cheerio.

Plus, it’s like something has been on Quinn’s mind the entire day, with no amount of gentle prodding working, and she just can’t stay away from the blonde when she’s like _that_ without offering as much comfort as she can.

Here, she vaguely hears Bi-rry snort with a loud crackle, and she pouts without realizing she’s doing it. _You try saying no to her._

_Why would I? As far as I’m concerned, if she asked us to ride her face I would say yes in a heartbeat._

_…_

_You know, now that you’ve accepted your feelings for her, you’re allowed to fantasize more about her._

_Dammit, it’s inappropriate, alright?_

_Oh please, like you’re not imagining sitting on her face right this moment._

_…_

_Told you._

“Rae where did you go there for a second?” Quinn’s amused yet fond voice rings out, and she lets out a little jump of surprise.

“It’s nothing!” she yelps, neck red and cheeks flushed.

“Mm, I’m sure,” Quinn hums, and damn, did Quinn’s voice always sound like that? Like liquid sex and cream and just a fucking turn-on?

_Yes._

_…We’re going to have a hard time getting over her, aren’t we?_

_Speak for yourself bitch, I’m never getting over her and her magical fingers, have you forgotten how they ran over the piano keys so fucking sexily that day? Those fingers can touch m-_

_Bi-rry!_

_Whaaat? We have a crush on her, it’s normal to think these things! It’s not like we’re going to stop anytime soon, so stop being such a twatswat even in your brain._

_Well…we might as well get some bang for our buck, I suppose._

_If I had it my way, we_ definitely _would be banging by now, but I’m pretty sure you’re still in the ‘she’ll never want me’ phase, so I’ll save that for later._

_…_

_Yep, you just compartmentalized that, didn’t you?_

_…I’m ignoring you now._

_Eh, might as well, I’m quite enjoying the feeling of Quinn’s fingers at the small of our back and her sexy-ass eyes staring into ours. Oh yeah, you might wanna say something now, I’m pretty sure we look stupid as fuck with our eyes glazed over and our mouth gaping open._

“Jesse?”

_Why the fuck did you just say that Rachel?_

_No seriously, Jesse’s_ right there _._

_What?_

_Ha, you’re the one who’s clueless now, I get why you like being more aware, it feels so good!_

_Yeah well, speaking of being aware, he’s currently walking right towards us, so you better think up a game-plan soon._

_Oh shit, help me!_

_…_

_Dammit you’re useless, Bi-rry!_

“Rachel?” Quinn asks with bemused eyes, with a small edge to her voice that might be annoyance.

She can only bring herself to nod her head towards the direction behind the blonde, and it’s exactly when Quinn looks behind her that Jesse speaks with what’s his ‘charming’ smile. “Hello ladies.”

Before Rachel can answer, Quinn is already sliding into position, angling the brunette behind her. “Why are you here, St. James?” she growls, protective streak clearly kicking in.

“I just wanted to speak to Rachel.” Jesse shrugs, before sending her a pointed look. “Preferably alone.”

“No way in _hell_ are you doing that,” Quinn snaps without a beat. “Who’s to say that you won’t just egg her again?”

Rachel bites her lip at the reminder, and Quinn notices her discomfort immediately, moving to grasp her hand in hers. With that, she turns to Jesse with her scowl even wider than before. “Now fuck off, St. James.”

Jesse, for his part, doesn’t look all that intimidated, and he crosses his arms petulantly. “I’m not leaving till I can talk to Rachel, and you know that I’ll find a way to eventually.”

Quinn’s about to retort, the glint in her eyes telling Rachel that is this probably only going to escalate if she doesn’t do anything, and she reluctantly squeezes the blonde’s hand to gain her attention. “Quinn,” she sighs. “I’ll go hear him out.”

Quinn sends her an _Are you serious?_ look, but Rachel gestures to Jesse, who doesn’t seem to be deterred at all, simply standing there with an expectant look on his face that seems way too arrogant for her liking. “If I don’t come back in a minute, please come save me.”

“I have a better idea, how about we ignore him altogether?” Quinn says with a dark edge to her voice, even with more bite than usual, and Rachel feels like this is important somehow, but she has to focus on the task at hand first.

“You know I have to, or else he’ll never leave.”

“Just know that I’m watching him Berry,” Quinn finally agrees, jaw set in an irritable line.

“I’d much prefer that you watch me, but okay,” Rachel tries her best to brighten the situation, and it works somewhat, Quinn letting go of her hand with a grunt.

“I want extra cuddles when we go home Rae,” she grumbles, seeming to light up a bit.

Rachel chuckles, her heart skipping pass a few beats at the thought even though it’ll probably be torturous for her crush on the blonde. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she promises, before moving to walk towards where Jesse had walked to, a far corner of the car park but still in Quinn’s line of sight.

“Took you long enough,” the boy huffs with his nose wrinkled. “I almost forgot how much I hated this school’s nasty smell.”

Rachel’s face contorts, regretting taking his offer for a date even more now that he seems to want more. “I thought I had made it clear that night Jesse, but I’m simply not interested in you anymore,” she tries to explain, wanting to get this over with as quickly as she can. “So I’d be grateful it if you would just leave me alone, and maybe we could be friends one day.”

“Look Rachel, I know how much you enjoy your romantic gestures, and you seem to be playing the hard-to-get card, which I admire vastly,” Jesse replies as if he hadn’t heard her previous statement. “I have already prepared to court you by showing up here after school every day, and while I can appreciate the drama of this, I simply do not think that it is befitting of someone of my class to court you for an extended period of time without gaining some reward, so this could be over with a whole less hassle if you would just agree to let me be your leading man.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Quinn looking at them with narrowed eyes full with concern and worry, though she can certainly see the blonde’s protectiveness making its way there, and not wanting to waste more of her Friday on placating Jesse, she turns to the boy and says, “Jesse, I assure you that I am not playing the hard-to-get card. It’s just that at best, I just don’t feel anything for you anymore, and it would only lead to failure if you waste your time on this endeavor of yours to get me to become your girlfriend again. Please do not come find me again.”

With that said and done, she turns and walks away from the boy with her hair flipping nicely in the wind, heading back to Quinn, who seems to be getting more and more fidgety with every second.

“What did he want?” the blonde asks immediately once she’s in hearing range, moving forward to interlope their arms.

“It’s nothing.” Rachel shakes her head, and she sees that Quinn very obviously wants to ask further, looking at her with suspicion shining bright in her eyes, but she lets it go after a moment with a grunt, something else clouding over it.

“Come on, I want to get home so we can watch more Buffy,” she says instead before Rachel can dwell any further, opening the car door for Rachel to enter. “And of course, I was promised cuddles.”

“Mm, cuddles are very important,” she agrees, and then she forgets about Jesse, because Quinn is telling her a joke that makes her laugh so hard her stomach hurts.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Her stomach _also_ hurts when she sees Jesse standing there once more after school on Monday, but this time it’s an upset rather than laughter filling it.

“What does he want this time?” Quinn holds onto her hand tighter, expression hardening.

“Come on, I don’t think he sees us, we can sneak by him I think.” She’s as displeased as Quinn, and when she sees a little smug smirk form at the blonde’s lips at that realization, she tries not to read into it like all her other actions and guides them to hurry past Jesse and into Quinn’s car.

“I swear to god if he comes again tomorrow I will castrate him,” Quinn vows, and Rachel would laugh if she doesn’t know that the cheerleader is probably semi-serious.

Unable to hold her question in anymore, she asks, “Not that I’m complaining, but…why do you dislike him so much? It’s not like he did anything to you.”

“He _egged_ you Rae!” Quinn’s eyes flare up within a second. “I don’t understand why you aren’t as furious it over it as me, he was a dick to you and now he’s trying to get back into your good graces, don’t you think that that’s a little bit suspicious?”

“I mean, you were a bitch to me too, but now you’ve made amends and am my best friend,” she answers with a thoughtful tilt to her voice. “I just like giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

Quinn stays silent for a second, and then she’s looking away, eyes trained to the road as she drives. “…You’re too forgiving, Rachel.”

Somehow, Rachel doesn’t think that this is about Jesse at all, and she bites her lip in thought. When it hits her, she turns to Quinn with sharp eyes. “Quinn, what are you really trying to say?”

The blonde doesn’t reply, simply continuing to pull up the driveway of the Berry household and unlocking the door, but Rachel refuses to budge, reaching out a hand to make Quinn look at her. “Quinn.”

There’s a beat of utter silence, and then the Head Cheerio is sighing. “I’m not good for you, you know.”

Rachel’s about to protest immediately, but then Quinn is shaking her head. “This isn’t about my guilt complex Rae, so you can save me that speech.”

She feels indignation well up within her, and she forcefully turns the blonde to face her. “Then tell me what this is about.”

It seems like those words trigger what Quinn has been holding in the entire car ride, and she closes her eyes for a brief second, before it all comes rushing out. “This is about _me_ not being good enough for you Rachel!” she almost cries out. “This is about how you deserve so much better than me, better than Jesse, better than Finn, better than _anyone_ , and I don’t know how to _give that to you_.”

“Quinn-”

“No Rachel, you just don’t _understand_ ,” Quinn’s voice cracks, frustration and pain evident in her tone. “You’re going to be a big Broadway star someday, and everybody’s going to know your name, and they’re going to love you, and I’m just going to be-” She abruptly cuts off here, and the look, the absolute _anguish_ that dawns on her face, is just so heart-breaking that Rachel’s heart aches along with the blonde’s, a phantom pain that strikes deep into her chest.

“I’m just going to be stuck here alone like a Lima Loser forever,” Quinn whispers, in a croak so small and broken that Rachel realizes that she’s silently _crying_.

“You right. This isn’t about that at all,” she suddenly understands. “This isn’t about me being too forgiving or you feeling like you owe me. Hell, this isn’t even about how you think that you’re somehow undeserving of me, is it?”

Her brain thinks of connections too fast for her to truly comprehend what’s going through her mind, but she’s absolutely certain of her next words. “This is about how you think people are going to abandon you because you think you’re not good enough.”

There isn’t any time at all until Quinn lets out a choked sob, shaking throughout her entire form visibly, and a beat doesn’t even pass before her body is instinctively moving to wrap the blonde up in her arms, a sick nausea to her stomach at just _how_ she hadn’t noticed sooner.

“Oh Quinn,” she mummers as the girl in her arms breaks down, clinging onto her as if she’s her lifeline and the only thing keeping her anchored. A feeling of helplessness bursts through her entire body, hating how she can’t seem to do _anything_ to fix whatever is happening, and all she can think of is holding on tighter to Quinn. “I’ve got you Quinn,” she whispers. “I’ve got you, and I’m never going to let you go.”

Her heart breaks as she sees the normally unstoppable blonde so utterly broken and lost, strangled little noises coming from her as her body shakes with silent sobs, tears leaking into Rachel’s shirt. When she figures out that Quinn is trying to keep quiet on purpose, probably drilled into her since birth, the voice screaming in her head to do something snaps her right into action, and she releases her breath, resolving to be strong for Quinn.

“Quinn, let’s go into my house, okay?” she gently asks, trying to keep her voice steady and clear. “I just need you to walk with me there…Can you do that for me?”

When she moves to unbuckle their seatbelts and unlock the car door, Quinn just holds onto her tighter with an almost desperate and frantic movement, and Rachel rubs her hand over the blonde’s back to soothe her. “I’m just opening the car door so we can go into our house Quinn, I’m not leaving you.”

Rachel has seen the blonde through countless breakdowns before, but she’s never seen her quite like _this_ , not even after she had come out to the Glee club. Before, she would still be responsive, but this time Quinn is almost panicked, clutching and clawing at her, as if…as if she was afraid Rachel was going to leave her.

It’s almost like a stone thuds dully against her heart, and she wonders how Quinn had managed to take care of her before, when she Rachel was the one breaking down, because it just _hurts_ to see the blonde in so much pain, and she hates the fact that she feels so useless.

But it’s with that reminder, that Quinn _had_ taken care of her then, had held her and comforted her, that solidifies her determination to see this through, and with what feels like a painful eternity, she manages to get them out of the car and into her bedroom.

By then, Quinn’s sobs seemed to have calmed down, and the blonde shucks away from her with a sharp inhale. “Shit, I-I’m sorry,” she rushes out, stepping backwards blindly until her legs meet the resistance of Rachel’s bed, and her eyes flicker wildly around the room. “I-I’m sorry, Rach- I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

When Rachel realizes that the blonde’s wild gaze is because she feels the need to find an exit, she steps out of the way of the door immediately and puts some more distance between them, eyes wide in alarm. “Quinn?” she asks cautiously, and when Quinn doesn’t seem to register her words, simply continuing to say _I’m sorry_ over and over again, Rachel takes a small step forward. “Quinn, you’re scaring me.”

Quinn’s eyes are glazed over and her face is a blank mask, barely masking panic and _fear_ , and Rachel takes another step forward. “Quinn, _please_. I need you to answer me.”

When she sees a bit of _something_ enter Quinn’s eyes, she presses harder. “Quinn, I need you. I need you to be strong and tell me what’s going on, okay?”

“Fuck, _Rachel_ ,” Quinn rasps out. “I can’t- I just can’t-”

“Yes, it’s me, Rachel, your Superstar, remember?” she says, as close as she can possibly be without touching the blonde. “And you can Quinn, I _need_ you to, okay? I need you.”

Quinn sucks in a final sharp breath, and then their bodies are mashed together, hip to hip and breast to breast. When she feels Quinn exhale, body deflating, she finally allows her tense muscles to relax too, and she wraps her arms around the girl with tentative arms, scared that something might set her off again.

Slowly, she maneuvers them so that they’re lying on the bed, Quinn moving along with her but completely unresponsive otherwise, and Rachel feels that scary ache loom in her heart once more as she just holds the blonde in her arms, knowing that if worst comes to worst, she has Quinn’s mom and therapist on speed-dial.

Every second sends a numb pain to her chest, and she closes her eyes as she burrows her head into soft blonde hair, willing her presence to bring some comfort to Quinn.

Soon enough, the cheerleader nuzzles against her neck, in a movement so slight that Rachel’s almost afraid that she had imagined it, but then a small whisper comes through. “Can I- Can you get me my meds? It’s in- in the blue little bag and marked with a red pen.”

“Okay,” she says, and the utter _relief_ she feels course through her veins now that Quinn’s semi-okay is a weight off her chest, because Quinn’s going to be _okay_.

With still movements, she slides off the bed and grabs the discarded Cheerios bag on the floor, finding the small packet of pills easily enough, and she hands them over to the blonde. “I’ll go get some water for you,” she whispers, afraid that even a small thing could break this fragile tranquil.

“No, it’s- it’s fine,” Quinn shakes her head slightly as she sits up, swallowing down the pills on her own without water.

Filing that little piece of information into her brain for another time, she shuffles on her feet awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Quinn…What just- What just happened?”

The blonde closes her eyes tightly, but before Rachel can hurry and add that she doesn’t have to respond, Quinn lets out a breath and looks away, eyes trained to her fingers that are twitching towards her ribs dangerously. “I saw Russell a few days ago. Thursday night.”

Rachel blinks to process the words, trying hard not to jump to conclusions. “…Did- Did he do something?”

She barely manages to keep the accusing bite out of her tone, and when Quinn flinches, her heart overturns her head, refusing to think it through rationally. “Quinn,” she pleads, voice firm. “What did he do?”

“He saw me, and then…he didn’t do _anything_ ,” Quinn confesses, voice resigned. “Just one look of contempt, and he walked away. _Nothing_.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” she mummers, biting on her lip, and Quinn just sends her a self-depreciating smile.

But then, it all clicks into place, Quinn’s cracked voice at the word _Nothing_ resonating through her head in haunting echoes. Quinn had grown up listening to Russell demean her and telling her that she was worthless, and once again, he had abandoned her.

“I’m going to murder him,” she decides, before turning to Quinn with soft eyes. “Quinn, first of all, you are _not_ going to stay here in Lima, because you are smart and you are _passionate_ about what you do okay? You’re going to get into an Ivy League school, and you’re going to become a famous writer, and then _I’ll_ be the one warding off your adoring fans.

“Second of all, even if you don’t go ahead and do that, I am not going to abandon you no matter what, and I really fucking want to kill Russell for making you think that you’re not worth enough to stick around for. You’re _amazing_ Quinn, and you’re going to do amazing things. I’d be lucky just to witness it, standing right by your side if you’ll let me. So I have two solutions for you. One, murder Russell, and two, just be _yourself_. Fuck everyone else.”

There’s silence for a long while, Quinn’s facial expressions not showing anything, and Rachel’s briefly worried that the blonde hadn’t heard her at all, but then Quinn’s nose is crinkling as she says, “I know people think I’m a slut after babygate, but I would very much appreciate if I could keep my list of potential one-night-stands to hot girls, thank you very much.”

Rachel stomach goes funny when she thinks of both babygate and Quinn’s potential one-nigh- yeah, she can’t even bring herself to say it, and she tries to force herself to sound upbeat. “The mental image of you and Puck is very scarring, you know, so I’d also very much appreciate if you’d stop talking about that.”

Eh. Well, at least she didn’t sound _that_ possessive and angry that Puck basically raped her.

But judging by Quinn’s little smirk, she probably did. (Dammit Rachel, stop thinking about what that _means_ , because Quinn would never want _you_.)

“At least thanks to the wine coolers that night, I don’t even remember how it happened so,” Quinn winces herself, but then a secretive smile makes its way onto her face, and – is that- is that a _blush_ on her face? “And well…I kind of have my eye on someone myself.”

Rachel feels a wave of nausea envelope her immediately, and color drains from her face, paling. “…You- You have your eye on someone?” she tries to ask with a steady voice, ignoring the fact that she’s utterly failing to do so, because her voice is going higher and higher in pitch with each word.

Quinn doesn’t seem to notice though ( _or care_ , that snide little self-loathing voice in her head says), and she simply continues to smile bashfully. “I do,” she hums with an excited tilt to her voice. “And…she’s something special alright.”

“Oh.” Rachel’s heart drops, face falling, but she still keeps her tone up for the sake of appearances. “Well I- I’m happy for you.”

Quinn shrugs at her, and a little bit of doubt enters her tired eyes. “She might not like me back though.”

Rachel waves that notion away without a beat, the thought of someone rejecting the blonde simply too absurd for her to even entertain, no matter how much it hurts her to think of Quinn having a girlfriend that…isn’t her. “Oh please, no one in their right mind would ever say no to you.”

A contemplative look crosses Quinn’s (very pretty even post-breakdown) face. “Would _you_ say no if I asked you?”

The question seems to have come out of nowhere for Rachel, and she blinks, trying to decide if she’s hallucinating or not. “I- I’m sorry?”

But as soon as she says the words, the room’s mood seems to turn somber as they remember what happened before, and Rachel can’t help but reach out to take Quinn’s hand in hers, thinking that dropping the previous topic would probably be for the best. “Quinn…What- What exactly happened back there?”

She has a bit of an inkling of an idea in her brain, but her heart is already speeding up and thumping loudly at all the worst-case scenarios her mind is conjuring up. She almost expects the blonde not to answer at all, but then a pale hand is softly squeezing back, and Rachel is reminded of a firm promise of opening up.

“So…remember what I said about Russell getting…violent?” Quinn sighs out, and Rachel’s hand automatically tightens around the blonde’s at the reminder, jaw already clenching at the thought. “Sometimes, he wouldn’t stop until I said what he wanted me to, so it…became a kneejerk reaction, I guess.”

Rachel’s head snaps up immediately. “You said it was a few slaps and punches,” she says, voice going up in pitch as her already frazzled mind gets more and more frantic in its worrying.

“It was,” Quinn replies hurriedly. “It was just- It was just that- He…He had a tendency to leave me alone, to- to teach me a lesson, if I didn’t.”

“Leave you _where_ exactly?” she asks, eyes darkening as her voice gains an edge.

“Lima is a small place Rachel,” Quinn reminds her with a self-depreciating lift to her tone. “How’d you think that I suddenly got better and better in PE?”

“…He _didn’t_ ,” she growls out.

Quinn laughs, dark and heavy. “I’m _very_ familiar with the streets around these parts.”

“You were _nine_.”

“Better nine than five,” Quinn sends a shrug at her. “I never got really hurt anyway, plus Mom started to find me after the first few times.”

“You never got _hurt_?” Rachel almost-screeches at the cheerleader, voice shrill and angry. “Quinn, you’ll probably have abandonment issues for the rest of your life!”

At that, Quinn has the audacity to crack out a small smile. “You know, I can probably stop seeing Dr. Flayke and consult _you_ instead, the way you both seem to say the exact same things. Well, the shrink is definitely more subtle about it.”

“How can you- How can you sit there and just act like this is all _okay_?” Rachel almost throws her hands up in frustration.

Quinn’s light expression turns dark immediately. “Oh I know it’s definitely not okay by any standards, the shrink made sure to drill that into my brain even though I still think that I deserved it sometimes.” Rachel’s about to protest, but Quinn shoots her an _I’m not finished_ look, and continues, “But there are people out there who are suffering through worse right now. If you think about it, I got off lightly compared to them. I just had to nurse a few bruises and find a way to navigate Lima. Others couldn’t even make it out alive.”

“And…you’re glad that you made it out alive?” she asks, knowing not to press further even though her heart is still raging at the thought of Russell Fabray’s actions.

“Jesus, I’m not suicidal Rae,” Quinn laughs, before her expression dims a bit. “…Well, not anymore, at least.”

Fear strikes itself into Rachel’s heart, and she swallows, throat dry. “You- You wanted to-”

“For a while during the Summer, yeah,” the blonde freely admits, as if it’s nothing at all. “But Mom made sure to run us through family therapy, and well…I realized that there was a lot I wanted to live for.”

“…Like this girl you like?”

(Dammit, she shouldn’t be this much of a masochist, but she is and fuck she hates the fact that she already wants so badly to be whoever Quinn has her eye on.)

Quinn’s entire demeanor seems to light up, all trace of the previous mood gone, and a soft smile appears on her face. “Definitely,” she agrees. “I have a lot of work cut out for me to woo her.”

She thinks that her heart shatters into a million pieces, because that smile that Quinn’s wearing? That’s the special little smile that only _she_ gets to fucking see, and now it’s being used when thinking of a girl that isn’t _her_ , and she thinks that maybe she wants to cry a little at the thought of that. Or a whole fucking lot.

But still, this girl, whoever she is, is who’s causing Quinn to grin so beautifully, so she sucks it up and forces a smile on her face. She can’t bear to continue the topic of whoever Quinn likes though, so she says instead, “So…you’re okay now.”

“I am,” Quinn breathes out. “I guess seeing Russell just…triggered me unknowingly and it had to come out _somehow_. His facial expression, it was- it was the one that he used to wore when he…left me behind.”

“Where the _fuck_ was Judy in all of this?”

“She always came back for me,” Quinn says, voice small. “Just…sometimes she couldn’t.”

Quinn’s demeanor is calm, but Rachel knows the blonde well enough by now, and she knows that that little break in her voice was _not_ intentional at all, so she bites her lip and pushes away the thoughts of Quinn liking someone that isn’t her. “Come here,” she says, tugging open the covers so they can snuggle inside.

Quinn follows willingly, and the Cheerio cracks a small smile. “I really must be something special then, if you’d let all the germs of our clothes into your bed for me.”

There’s a response in her head, saying that she’d do _anything_ for the blonde, but that just makes her heart ache harder, so she simply huddles closer to her warmth. “You really are something special,” she says instead, filled with an urge to make sure Quinn knows that. “And that’s why I’ll never leave you, okay Quinn? If I’m ever so stupid as to do that, I promise you that I will always, _always_ come back, and then you can smack me for doing it in the first place. Deal?”

There’s long beat, and then Quinn is exhaling a shaky breath. “Deal. You’re…You’re really something else, Rachel Berry.”

A sharp stab pangs at her heart, because if she really was that special, then Quinn would be choosing her and not the bitch that she has her eye on, but anyone who can make the blonde smile so happily _has_ to be something, so she ignores the pain in her chest and she holds onto Quinn tighter.

At least she has this much of Quinn right now, and she’s going to hang on to as much as she can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I technically updated on Monday last week due to it being after midnight, you guys get this on a technical Sunday. I was sick all week (still am, so don't kill me if this was shit :p) and didn't write a single thing, and I'm going to Japan for a week in like three days, which is like fuck me and my muse, and to top it all off, I'm 25k off-schedule yay _silently weeps_


	12. V. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Rachel gets a clue-by-four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a beforehand warning: Yall are gonna hate me for this chapter. Like, I fully expect a lot of BITCH WHYs. Nothing sad happens, promise, but Vicky immediately demanded me to hand over the next chapter when I gave her this though, soooo :p

Jesse shows up the next day.

And the next. And the next. And the day after that too.

As Rachel pulls Quinn away so that they can sneak to their car without the boy noticing, Quinn refuses to budge. "Oh fuck this," she growls. "That's it, I'm going over there and giving him a piece of my mind."

"Don't do that, your mind is too intelligent for him," Rachel tries to joke in an attempt to dissuade her. "He probably would need much more than an instruction manual to operate it."

"Yeah, and you're too good for him too, so I'm going to tell him that, and maybe then he'll fuck off," Quinn grunts, and then a slightly worried look dawns on her face, apprehension now in her eyes as she draws back a bit. "Wait…You- You don't actually _like_ him, right?"

Rachel, affronted that Quinn would even have the audacity to even entertain that thought, grimaces with her her nose wrinkled. "Of course not, why would you think that?"

There's a part of her brain telling her that she probably should pay more attention to exactly _why_ Quinn is worried, but then she writes it off as wishful thinking, because the blonde is probably just protective of her since Jesse hurt her the last time around.

"Well, _you're_ the one who's preventing me from castrating him." She's pretty sure that she sees a pout form on Quinn's face, and she has an urge to just kiss it away, because really, those lips are just way too damn kissable, and she-

_Focus Rachel, focus._ "I probably wouldn't have much of a protest to that, but I'd really like it if you'd keep yourself out of prison and be with me instead."

Her face flushes at her wording, or more specifically the 'be with me' part – can you try can be more obvious Rachel? – but she shakes it off and squeezes at Quinn's hand. "Look, I don't want him to bother us either, but I do acknowledge that it is highly unlikely he's going to give up anytime soon, so…we can go talk to him, I guess."

"Finally," Quinn's face stretches into an almost-evil smirk, and Rachel has a slight tug-of-war deciding if it's terrifying or cute.

"Quinn, do try not to rip his face off please," she requests, and the Cheerio's face falls slightly.

"No promises."

Rachel bites her lip, because really, she shouldn't find someone's face falling so attractive, and half-heartedly, she reminds, "Quinn."

The honor-roll student sighs. "Fine, I won't send him flying back to his mother crying by sic-ing Santana on him."

"That's better," Rachel allows the smile that she's been holding in to appear, and she takes in a breath. "Time to face the music."

"If the music somehow can be both arrogant and terrible, then yes," Quinn snarks beside her, and Rachel lightly swats at her arm.

"Be nice."

"What, did you say 'be my HBIC persona'?" Quinn pretends not to have heard her, "I _knew_ you had a thing for it."

Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, but she supposes her red face is answer enough, and before her mind can overthink the smug smirk showing on Quinn's face, the head cheerleader is continuing, "I mean, I don't blame you, I've been told how hot my HBIC mode is, so."

"What, from the girl you like?" Rachel can't help but grumble, and a soft look appears on Quinn's face, indecipherable, and it makes Rachel's heart hurt with a phantom ache, because it's undoubtedly due to the mysterious crush.

"I don't think she really has told me she likes it, but I think I know better," Quinn smiles, the small little grin that is genuine and reaches her eyes, and Rachel's elated and depressed all at once.

There's a little voice at the back of her head telling her that she should probably dig deeper into the fact that Quinn practically hangs out with her 24/7 and so has no time to actually socialize with other people, which makes her last statement somewhat questionable, but Rachel can't really afford to get her hopes up, so she simply tugs at Quinn's arm gently. "Come on, let's go and see what Jesse wants."

"You, most likely," Quinn grunts, though she follows along without complaint. "And he's not going to get you."

"Because he's not good enough for me?" she questions, watching as Jesse notices them and his face turns expectant.

Quinn snorts, "Do I even have to answer that question?"

"I suppose not," Rachel shrugs, taking her sweet time to walk as slowly as she can to prolong the inevitable. "…Is there _anyone_ you think is good enough for me?"

She only asks out of curiosity. Nothing more.

(She's also sure that the laughter in her brain isn't Bi-rry crackling.)

"Of course not," Quinn answers without a beat, as if the thought's simply absurd. "No one's good enough for you."

"…Even you?" Damn her masochistic heart.

Right as they stand still before Jesse, Quinn shakes her head and chuckles, "I'm _never_ going to be good enough for you."

She's about to venomously protest, but then Jesse saunters up to them, and she hears the blonde whisper, "But damn if I'm not going to try."

Her heart lifts immediately at the words, and it sinks almost as fast. More than anything in that moment, she wants to be the girl that Quinn likes _so badly_ , to hear the blonde's sweet and heartfelt declarations all the time, and she barely manages to keep her face level.

It's at that moment that Jesse opens his mouth to speak, and Quinn snaps into HBIC mode immediately, stepping forward a bit as if to shield Rachel. "St. James, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up," she growls, and Rachel totally doesn't ruin her panties when her stomach thuds with arousal at Quinn's low and dangerous husk. "Rachel's not interested, get it through your thick skull, or I'm going to _break_ it."

Jesse, for his part, doesn't seem to be that shaken up, but Rachel knows better, as she can see him pale a bit, and she nudges Quinn softly, telling her that she'll handle this. "Jesse, I really don't like you at all, okay? So please stop trying to get me to date you, or else I'll be forced to have Shelby intervene. If you want to be friends, then I'll be happy to attempt to build a friendship with you, but I'll never do more than that."

"In other words, fuck off, or we'll call the cops on you," Quinn shrugs, eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you have a preference."

Jesse can't keep his unfazed front anymore, and his face darkens. "Fine," he says, before turning to Rachel, a look equating to one of a ruffled bird adorned. "Your loss."

"Yes, she will regret and mourn the loss of you forever," Quinn deadpans, "Now get the fuck out of here."

A contemplative look enters Jesse's eyes, and they widen, as if realizing something. "Oh," he chuckles in a way that just _screams_ condescending. "I see what this is about." Quinn automatically tenses from next to her, and Rachel tries her best to soothe the blonde by rubbing circles over the back of her hand with her thumb. "You're worried that-"

"St. James," Quinn cuts him off with her voice hard. "Don't you dare."

A look of almost pity is what Jesse aims at her, and Bi-rry's voice screams at Rachel to actually listen and _think_. "And that, my dear, is why you won't ever have what you really want," he sighs. "I'll leave you two alone now. But…I do wish to rebuild our friendship, Rachel. A word of advice though, do try opening your eyes to what's blatantly in front of you."

With that, he turns on his heel and goes back to his Range Rover, with Quinn still rigid in her form.

"Quinn," Rachel tentatively says, brow furrowed. "What did he mean by that?"

A myriad of emotions flicker across Quinn's face, flying by too fast for her to pick out, and finally, the Head Cheerio lets out a breath. "It's…It's nothing."

A large part of Rachel is telling her to push farther, the part of that's usually right about these things, but her mind is too jumbled and her heart too distraught for her to muster up any energy to, and she shoves all of those thoughts into the back of her mind. "Okay then," she chirps, trying to keep her voice light. "Come on, I want to finish watching Buffy by tomorrow."

"But I just want to head to bed and cuddle all day," Quinn pouts.

"We can do that later," Rachel promises, ignoring the tint to her cheeks, because _ha, take that crush-bitch, Quinn wants to cuddle with_ me _!_

"My bed always feels cold when you're not there though, and since today is Friday I want to get my fix, sue me," Quinn grins innocently, though it's a shit-eating one if Rachel's ever seen it, and it makes her heart skip faster.

"Yeah well, guess your crush will warm up your bed soon enough," she tries to tease, though she's pretty sure it comes off as way too bitter, and she internally winces at her tone.

"Oh she will," Quinn hums with that secretive little smile of hers, but then she seems to notice Rachel's sour mood, and a thoughtful look dawns on her face. "…You don't actually know who I have a crush on, do you?"

_All I need to know is that I hate her, dammit!_ is what her inner voice growls.

"All I know is that she's one lucky girl," she shrugs instead, hoping that she sounds nonchalant about it.

"Nah, I'm the lucky one," Quinn chuckles. "I'm afraid that she'll reject me if I tell her about my feelings though."

_Oof…Yep, that's my heart breaking right there,_ she thinks, chest clenching. _But I'll weather through this._ "There's no way," she forces herself laugh, even though it probably comes off as fake and artificial, because fuck she's getting more and more heartbroken with everything Quinn says, so really, if she can't act as well as she usually can, it's not really her fault. "I mean, you could probably ask out Kurt, and he'd still say yes."

"Probably to hound me on my fashion choices, but okay," Quinn plays along, but it's clear that something is on her mind, most likely the girl she has a crush on, and Rachel just feels another piece of her heart bring ripped out of her chest.

"Now come on," she shifts the topic, knowing that she won't be able to bear any more of this line of conversation without crying her eyes out and giving herself away completely. "It's Friday and we've already been interrupted by Jesse long enough."

Quinn hums her agreement, and the blonde leads her into the car with a chivalrous, "After you, my lady."

"Why, how kind of you," Rachel laughs, heart stubbornly speeding up at the gesture even after so many times of witnessing it, and she slides into the passenger seat. "We can listen to the soundtrack of _Funny Girl_ again."

"I'd rather listen to your MySpace videos, but sure," Quinn sends her a brief smile, eyes unfocused and clearly focused on other things.

Other things that don't involve Rachel, like that fucking bitch Quinn likes.

Yeah, she really fucking hates this.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Hours later, when they're curled up on the couch and watching _Buffy_ , it's clear that Quinn isn't really paying much attention at all, not even following along excitedly like she always does when it comes to _Buffy_ , and Rachel tries her damn best to not sulk.

Oh please, who's she kidding, she's definitely sulking.

Having to deal with the whole 'I have a crush on Quinn Fabray' is hard enough already, but now she also has to worry about the girl that Quinn likes.

The insecure part of her keeps on whispering (yelling, screaming, shouting) at her that she was never going to be enough to begin with, so how the hell is she supposed to compete with someone special enough to catch Quinn's eye?

The even more insecure part of her tells her that she's probably never going to find the courage to disrupt what she and Quinn has and try to compete in the first place, so she simply huddles closer to Quinn's form, soaking up what comfort and warmth she can.

It's ironic, finding comfort from what's causing her to be so distraught in the first place, but when Quinn undoubtedly gets together with her crush, their time together will definitely decrease, and Rachel's very pathetic to be thinking this, but she wants to hold on to these moments with all that she has, knowing that it's probably limited.

(Now, the voice in the form of Bi-rry is telling her otherwise, telling her to look at all that's happened and actually _see_ what's going on, but for once, that voice in her head seems to pale in volume in comparison to all the other worries and doubts clouding her mind, and she just doesn't have the energy to pursue it further.)

"What's going on Superstar?" Quinn cuts into her thoughts, looking at her with a brow arched. "You've been blanking out, what's wrong?"

Rachel bites down hard on the inside of her lip, glancing away with a duck of her head. "It's stupid."

And something that will very much drive the blonde away if she finds out.

"If it's stupid, then you wouldn't be spacing," Quinn counters. "Now, tell me what's wrong and I'll do my best to fix it. You looking sad isn't appealing."

"You-You're just so perfect." Rachel shakes her head, almost as if she's in disbelief.

"Self-esteem and abandonment issues to last through lifetimes, hello?" Quinn gives her a crooked smile. "If that's what's bothering you, you probably should go find a therapist yourself."

"I already have one," Rachel reminds the blonde, a small smile appearing on her face now that she understands how somewhat comedic this is, both of them being so epically messed up. "And you're perfect in the way that you somehow manage to turn your flaws into endearments," she shrugs.

"You do it better though," Quinn grins at her, but then it dims a bit. "Tell me what's bothering you Rae. If it's because of Finn or someone, I'll gladly find Santana and beat them up with her."

"Quinn, a suspension wouldn't look good on your college applications, you know," Rachel lightly laughs.

"You assume that I would be so stupid as to let myself be caught." Quinn raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at her. "Stop trying to distract me Rae, spill."

Rachel sighs, knowing that the blonde would stop if she really wanted her to, but a small part of her is telling her to talk to Quinn, as if that would make the cheerleader want to stay more. "So this girl you like," she starts, swallowing down the dryness of her throat. "When- When you inevitably get together with her, I- I'm afraid that you'll stop wanting to hang out with me," she confesses softly, keeping her eyes trained to the monster-slaying Buffy is doing.

"Rachel, do you like, _not_ remember how I was scared _you_ would be the one leaving me?" Quinn nudges her softly, forcing her to meet hazel eyes. "I'm in this for life, and I'm offended you would think otherwise."

"You'll still start to spend less time with me once you get yourself a girlfriend," Rachel mumbles, shrugging of the hand on her arm but still not willing to move away from Quinn's comfortable body warmth just yet.

"Rachel, sweetie, trust me on this, but that will _never_ happen," Quinn has the audacity to laugh, before the look in her eyes turns into something hesitant. "You'll…You'll _always_ be the number one for me, no matter what, okay?"

Bi-rry is screaming at her that what Quinn's trying to tell her is very much important, but all Rachel can do is nod her head and burrow herself closer to the blonde, trying not to look into why exactly Quinn calls her sweetie and all those other things.

Honestly, she doesn't know much more of this she can take.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

When she gets home the next day, she's practically on a warpath to her room to do her pillow scream-cry-smile routine.

It takes a good ten minutes for her to calm down, and she walks down the staircases to the basement to practice her singing, storming right past her fathers, who look on with desensitized eyes. (Speaking of which, she really should make another PowerPoint educating them on that.)

After a few heartbreaking renditions of various songs, it's when she's once again belting out _Hopelessly Devoted To You_ that she can't take anymore, and she storms right back up to the living room, breathlessly saying to her fathers, "Dads, I have something to confess."

Her fathers simply look on with semi-interested eyes, and she continues, "I have a crush on Quinn Fabray."

Leroy and Hiram just continue looking at her, and Rachel stomps her foot in impatience. "Well?"

"Oh, that's it?" Leroy blinks. "I thought you had something else to confess."

"I'm glad that you aren't pregnant though," Hiram nods along, before he furrows his brow. "Wait, why aren't you with Quinn yet?"

"Fathers, I'm having a _crisis_ here," Rachel stresses, almost throwing up her arms in a diva-fit. "Why aren't you as surprised as me?"

"Rachel honey, sorry to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure you've had a crush on Quinn since _forever_ ," Leroy explains, shrugging. "I mean, even back during freshman year, you were always like _Quinn looked so pretty today_ and _Quinn, the girl that's first in our grade and to-be Head Cheerio soon!_ I don't really know what you want us to say to you."

Rachel lets that sink in her head for a moment, and then her eyes are narrowing as she lets out a frustrated yell and storming up the stairs.

"Wait, Rachel!" Hiram calls after her. "Does this mean that we can bake a 'Welcome to the family' cake for Quinn?"

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

"Kurt, I have a crush on Quinn. Help."

"Oh, you're just figuring this out now?" is what the amused reply rings through. "I'd thought for sure that we'd be having this conversation _weeks_ ago."

"Yeah yeah, save me the speech, my dads already gave it to me," Rachel rolls her eyes. "Now help, I have a crisis!"

"Of course you do," Kurt hums, dry and yet still interested. "Now, I've noticed that Quinn _really_ likes it when you wear primary black, and she thinks it's cute when you wear a beanie, so I'd recommend that, and-"

"Kurt, not _that_ kind of crisis!" Rachel hisses, before her mind registers what the boy had said. "Wait…she likes it when I wear black?"

"Girl, had you _saw_ her sex eyes at you that time when you wore that faux-leather jacket to school?" Kurt practically snorts. "But what kind of crisis are you having, do tell."

"Quinn's confessed that…she likes someone," Rachel spills out, dying to just vent all of her thoughts out. "And- And I'm trying _really_ hard not to sob my eyes out while bundling under my bedsheets for an eternity."

There's silence from the other side of the line for a long while, with Rachel's heart sinking more and more with every second that passes, and then Kurt is sighing, "Rachel…Have you…Have you ever considered that maybe the girl Quinn likes is _you_?"

The words sink into her like tiny needles, and she closes her eyes. "Kurt, please don't give me false hope right now," she whispers in reply. "I'd rather deal with the heartbreak before it gets worse."

"Rachel, _why_ exactly do you think there's not a chance that it's you?" Kurt asks, sounding as if he's desperately trying to hold something in, but Rachel barely pays it any mind, mind too frazzled and heart aching too much for her to really dig deeper.

"There's no way she'd like _me_ ," she almost laughs, though she's pretty sure it comes out as an almost sob instead, bitter and dark. "She's _Quinn Fabray_ , and well, I'm…me."

"The Rachel Berry I know would go after her with all her might." Kurt easily side-waves that, and Rachel doesn't even try to figure out his angle.

"Yeah well, Rachel Berry _now_ would rather keep her friendship rather than jeopardize it."

"Oh please, Quinn is never leaving you, you two are like lovesick puppies following each other around." Kurt's eye-roll is heard very evidentially in his tone, and he continues, sounding more and more exasperated with each word. "And even if the practically non-existent chance that she actually doesn't like you back happens, you know she won't end your friendship."

"But everything will _change_ Kurt, she'll start pulling away, and- and I can't lose her, can't lose what we already have!"

"So you won't have the guts to actually take a chance and get even _more_?"

"Not if it means I might end up with less." Rachel shakes her head, even though she knows he can't see it. "I just- I just can't Kurt."

She's met with silence for a few seconds, the call static crackling dangerously, and then there is, "Oh, for the love of- That's it," Kurt finally hisses with frustration, the edge lacing his tone like he's at the end of his rope. "Santana and I made a pact not to say anything, but I can't take it anymore."

Rachel immediately furrows her brow in bemusement. "Wha-"

"No, you listen right here Rachel Berry," Kurt cuts her off, voice heated. "Listen up carefully, because I don't think I can bear to say this again. Quinn. Likes. You." He enunciates each word as if talking to a toddler, pronouncing the words loud and clear. "Hell, the girl is head over heels for you, and I'm so tired of seeing you two dance around each other and being stupid, I mean you two are practically _dating_ , the way you seem to be galloping around everywhere hand in hand!"

Kurt's words pierce right into her chest, reigniting all her overthinking about whether it actually _means_ something, and she swallows tightly, suddenly feeling more like crying then ever. "Kurt, don't be silly and stop telling me this," she simply croaks out, heart beating so loudly in her chest she's sure she's going to have a heart attack, and maybe it's something in her voice, but Kurt stops his ranting, allowing her to continue. "Don't you think that I know exactly _how_ close we are? And it tortures me every day, because she's right there, but she's unattainable, and I don't want to lose what we already have. It's all I'll _ever_ have of her, Kurt."

"Rachel…" Kurt sighs out, sounding both tired and compassionate. "Haven't you been listening at all? You keep on thinking that you can't have her, but you already _do_ Rachel, and you know what? It's because of those same exact fears that Quinn's too scared to tell you how she really feels straight-up."

"You're lying," Rachel denies without a beat, refusing to believe it, breath speeding up rapidly, because this all sounds too good to be true, and she just can't afford to believe it. "This is all just some sort of sick prank, and I won't listen to whatever you have to say."

"I know I've been awful to you, but do you really have _that_ little trust in me?" Kurt questions, voice soft.

"No, of course not, it- I just- I just _can't_ set up myself to failure Kurt," her voice breaks as she croaks out the words. "Finn I could handle, but- but losing Quinn completely? I-I know she would never really leave me, but I can't do that to myself, even if it's worth the risk."

"God, you two are so frustrating," Kurt sighs out in reply. "Just so you know, I'm totally rubbing my temples because of the headache you're giving me right now."

"Kurt, if you don't really have anything else to say, can you at least come over so I can cry a bit?" Rachel blinks to force her eyes to stop watering. "Maybe I'll get over Quinn after, though I doubt it."

"You- _Rachel_ \- What more evidence of Quinn liking you back do you need?" Kurt ignores her last sentence. "You said it yourself, the closeness you share is definitely not something that would be platonic, and you know it as well as I do, she _never_ gets tactile with anyone else, just you, so what more does it have to take to get you to believe that she likes you?"

"I-I…" Rachel can't muster up a reply, because she knows the answer well enough. All the evidence is there, but it's truly her mindset and fear that's blocking her heart.

She's probably going to end up bursting out in tears one of these seconds soon, but then Kurt connects someone to their line, and Santana's panicked voice rings out, "Oh shit Hummel, Q's currently freaking out in my living room and I don't know what to do!"

"Santan-" Kurt tries to say, with Rachel hanging onto every word with all the worst-case scenarios playing out in her mind and already half-way out the door in case the blonde's in trouble.

"No, not now Hummel, she's doing _feelings_ , not meltdown feelings, but _heartbreak_ feelings, and I have no fucking clue how to deal with it other than shoving Brittany to her!" Santana tirades on, cutting the boy off. "Please tell me you've gotten things going on the midget's end, because Quinn's panicking big time now that she's actually planning out how to ask Berry out and not just trying to woo her!"

"… _What_?

There's silence for all but two seconds, and then, "…Shit."

"I tried warning you Santana," Kurt huffs out. "Now _you_ have to suffer through this with me."

"What? Fuck no," Santana snorts, "I already have to deal with Q- Oh fuck!"

"What?" Rachel and Kurt simultaneously ask in alarm.

"Quinn's run off to who knows where," Santana groans. "Britts tried stopping her, but you know Quinn and her muscles, bitch's fucking strong." Before Rachel can shove her raging thoughts to the side and question whether the blonde is going to be safe or not, the Latina continues, "Berry, I hope for your sake that you've gotten over whatever you're in denial of, because I'm pretty sure that Quinn is going to show up at your doorstep any second now, asking for your hand in marriage."

"Santana, don't scare her like that!" Kurt chastises, before he lets out a girlish squeal. "But I do have to admit, all of this romantic drama is so good, I just can't wait to get all the deets from your date Rachel."

"Da-Date?" she squeaks.

"Well I better hope so," Santana snorts. "Unless you're planning on saying no to Quinn Fabray on a mission."

"Now, remember what I said Rach," Kurt continues as soon as Santana stops, not allowing Rachel any time to process at all. "Wear some black, light and natural makeup, and something cute. Got me? Great."

"Wha-"

"Oh and Rachel, don't hurt Quinn," Santana adds, "I like you these days, but you hurt my girl, I hurt you."

"I'm definitely going to give Quinn that sentiment myself too," Kurt hums. "Though I _am_ a bit scared of her."

"I'm pretty sure both of them are going to live in a disgustingly happy ever after anyways, after all that they've gone through – hell, after all _we've_ gone through trying to get them together – so it's probably not needed, but I like terrorizing Berry like that."

"Santana, don't be rude now," Kurt says, sounding haughty. "I know for a fact that you've given Quinn the speech too, so you can't lie, Rachel's growing on you."

"Like a fungus?" Santana snarks in return, but Rachel can hear the hint of embarrassment coloring her tone, and that just adds another emotion to the stockpile of contradicting feelings in her mess of a state.

Before she can dwell any further – like maybe on the fact that Quinn Fabray apparently likes her back and is going to _ask her out_ within the _day_ – Kurt starts talking again. "Yeah, she does that to you," he chuckles fondly, before it turns to one of amusement. "But I'm pretty sure we should be reassuring her right now, since I can practically feel her freakout from here."

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot," Santana agrees. "What stage of denial is Berry on? The stage where she thinks she doesn't actually like Q, the stage where she thinks that Quinn would never like her, or the stage where she thinks that she's hallucinating all of this?"

"Uh, the second one mostly," Kurt answers. "She had the same exact reasoning as Quinn on that."

Santana snorts, "Yup, a match made in gay heaven if I ever saw one."

"They probably should just get their heads out of their asses soon," Kurt agrees. "Now, Rachel I'm pretty sure she should be there any minute with her big confession, so remember all the things we've said okay? You'll be fine."

"I, for one, want to see how this entire shitshow turns out, so," Santana laughs. "But yeah midget, what Kurtsie there said. There's no way you'll mess up with Quinn, bitch is way too in love with you otherwise."

"In- In _love_?" Rachel opens and shuts her jaw, heart feeling like it was going to stop functioning at any second.

"Dammit Santana stop scarring the poor girl. Rachel sweetie, just let Quinn finish her epic declaration of love, do one of your own, and agree to a date alright? The rest will definitely come naturally."

"Declaration of _what_?"

"Really, I'd love to give you advice Berry, but I wants to get my cuddles on with my Britts, so no," Santana's dry voice cuts though the line, and Rachel just feels herself freak out even more. "But if you really want it, here's my kick in your head – kiss her and finally bang away all of your fucking blinding UST. Got me? Great."

"Wha-" The doorbell rings. "Oh fuck."

Santana barks out a laugh. "Oh fuck indeed," she crackles, before her voice takes on a softer hue. "Now go get your girl Berry."

"We'll be cheering you on," Kurt assures her, and just like that, the line cuts off.

Looking down the stairs and peering right at the daunting door, Rachel doesn't even _know_ where to begin processing all the shit's that been revealed to her, but Quinn Fabray is literally _right there at her doorstep_ , and if Kurt and Santana are to be believed, about to ask her out on a date.

She's so fucked, isn't she?

(But at the bottom of her heart, there's a giddy feeling of anticipation slowly rising up to replace the dread and fear, and she has no idea what to do with that.)

Sucking in a deep breath, she sets her eyes on the door once more, and she exhales.

What is one to do with Quinn Fabray on their doorstep and apparently about to declare her love?

_The answer would be to kiss her senseless and agree to whatever the blonde wants,_ her inner voice provides, and for once, Rachel agrees.

_So it is._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hate me. Leave me reviews screaming at me for this, maybe that’ll push me to actually get my ass together and write more. My writing is only a chapter and a half ahead right now, which is I think the smallest the gap has ever been. Gaaaah, damn you Japan! If you know me on discord, please send hourly messages reminding me to write, god knows I need it.


	13. V. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where I leave yall on a slightly less steep cliff

It probably should feel more dramatic then it is actually is.

After all, it’s a scene that Rachel has dreamt of many a time, with time seemingly frozen down as she stares at the door with her mind in a frenzy and heart a mess.

She also probably should be freaking out, because the girl Quinn likes is actually _her_ , which is just a ‘what-the-fuck’ trip already, but now she’s also just a door away, about to ask her out on a date.

Thinking about it, Rachel feels her heart speed up rapidly, but honestly she’s just so _tired_ after all the emotional rollercoasters and revelations that had swept her off her feet and landed her on her head today, and for once, she just wants to go with the flow and see where this takes her.

So pushing everything else aside for the moment, she breathes in and out with steady breaths, and she lets the most basic of truths wash over her instead. _Quinn Fabray likes me, and she’s going to ask me out._

That simple sentence seems to clear her entire mind, emptying all the leftover emotions from earlier, and when she repeats it in her brain, a strange giddiness erupts from her chest, and she has to stop her smile from contorting into a smile, because she still has to be cautious even though now all the wants is to rip open the door and kiss the blonde who is apparently outside right now.

_You know, you should probably open the door before Quinn changes her mind and leaves_ , Bi-rry reminds her, somewhat more helpful than usual.

That possibility sends Rachel almost running to the door, but then when her hand is on the door handle, she freezes. _Crap, what am I going to say?_

_Uh, maybe that you like her back and you want to have her babies?_

_…Why are you being so helpful?_

_Because if you don’t get your shit together soon, Quinn’s going to leave and then my sexytimes will be gone, dumdum!_

_Oh. That…makes a lot more of sense._

_Well_ duh _, now go get our girl, will you?_

Huffing in a deep breath for courage, Rachel reminds herself to just go with the flow, and she opens the door, to be met with the sight of Quinn, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she shuffles her feet on the doorstep, looking tentative and hesitant.

The blonde always looks absolutely stunning, but in that moment, the girl looks so _beautiful_ that Rachel feels her heartbeat skipping in frantic beats, and maybe it’s the fact that she knows the girl Quinn likes is actually _her_ now – which makes everything _so_ much better – Rachel can’t seem to bring herself to form words, too enamored with the beauty in front of her.

“Quinn,” she finally manages after a few beats, voice breathy and airy, and the cheerleader seems to snap out of her daze.

“Uh, yeah, hi Rachel,” Quinn starts, eyes seemingly flickering all over the place. Seeing the Cheerio so frazzled and unsure is definitely a first, and Rachel can only watch on in morbid fascination as Quinn bites down on her lip, continuing, “I-I’m sorry for coming here unannounced, but I…I have something I want to tell you, I guess.”

Rachel knows exactly what the blonde is going to say, but still, there’s a little voice in her head telling her that that’s not what Quinn is here for at all – because why would she have a crush on someone like _her_ – and it makes her chest clench, so she holds in her breath.

“So um – oh god this is stupid – remember that girl I told you that I had a crush on?” Quinn asks, looking as if she’s losing her nerve with every beat and second, and Rachel gives a small nod, heart racing. “Yeah, so it’s, uh- it’s-” the blonde tries to force out, a visible conflict waging on her face, and Rachel just wants to get this done and over with by just saying yes a thousand times, but she’s rooted in her spot, paralyzed by the fear that Quinn might not actually like her after all. Finally, after a few more times stumbling over her words, Quinn shakes her head as she backs away slowly, taking in a sharp breath. “ _Fuck_ , I can’t do this, it was- it was stupid of me, to come here, I- I’m sorry, I can’t- I have to go, I’m sorry-”

The girl looks like a caged animal, a panicked look on her face, and Rachel’s inner voice _screams_ at her to do something, _anything_ , to get the blonde to stay, because her chance is slipping away before she can even fully grasp it, and it’s that realization that sends her into action before Quinn can slip away without another word, sending her out of the doorway with a desperateness that seems to have followed her around for too long. “Wait, Quinn!”

The blonde stops right in her tracks, and when she looks back up at her, the pure _fear_ that Rachel finds shown clearly there makes her heart ache with a dull pang, hurting with a pain that’s laced with incredulity.

Quinn shouldn’t be the one freaking out about asking _Rachel Berry_ out for a date, for god’s sake. and she’s be damned if she’ll let her own fear ruin the only shot at happiness she might get, so with a spike of bravery that can only come from extreme franticness, she rushes out, “Quinn…What- What were you going to say to me?”

She could probably say that she knew her plan all along, but she can’t. She has to hear Quinn say it, say that she wants _her_.

The cheerleader looks away again, distraught and clearly hesitant, but Rachel can’t take much more of not knowing, and she pleads, “ _Please_ , Quinn.”

It seems to be the final little push that the blonde needs, and after a few moments, she nods slowly. “It’s- It’s you,” she admits, breathing the words out like she was afraid that she wouldn’t have been able to say the words in time. There’s a quick beat, and then a faint blush tints her pale cheeks as she clarifies, “The person I like, I mean. It’s- It’s you.”

Rachel doesn’t even have the time to process anything until Quinn is shaking her head in a light laugh. “God, I had this all planned out in my head, you know?” She smiles ruefully, a twinge of disbelief to it, as if she doesn’t quite believe that she had managed to say the words. “I was going to give you a whole grand romantic gesture, just the way you like it, but then I just- I just couldn’t wait anymore, you know?”

Rachel still can’t muster up a reply, pretty sure her brain had short-circuited at what just happened. She had kinda knew it was coming, but to really _hear_ the words come out of Quinn Fabray’s mouth, that her feelings are actually _returned_ , it just sends doubt running through her body, and she feels as if she has to check if this is just a dream, even with all the giddiness hazing her mind at the same time.

But evidently, Quinn doesn’t seem to take her lack of response well, and with every passing second, she seems to grow even more and more restless, fidgetiness breaking through her normally collected demeanor. “Look, if you-” She lets out a breath here, voice sounding so small and frail in that moment that all Rachel wants to do is find a way to make it better. “If you don’t reciprocate, I- I’ll try my best not to let our friendship get weird, and I’ll- I’ll try to get over you.”

That last statement just sounds like the worst thing Rachel has ever heard in her life – yes, including the time when her parents told her that Barbra Streisand _wouldn’t_ be coming to her forth birthday party – and she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Have you _seen_ the way that I send love-eyes to you?”

Quinn blinks, as if not quite processing the words, and Rachel blushes. “I mean- It’s- It’s something that I’ve been told that I do a lot, staring at you with heart-eyes.” Quinn still doesn’t seem to understand, and Rachel begs herself not to mess this one up, summoning all the strength in her to at least _try_. “Quinn, what I mean is, I like you too. And totally not in the platonic way. It’s- It’s _very_ much more than that, I- I like you a lot, actually.”

By the end of her sentence, she’s burning red and feeling like a bumbling fool, but she can’t keep the small smile off of her lips, because she’s actually _done_ it, confessed to Quinn that she likes her. It takes a few seconds for the blonde to respond, Rachel waiting with a baited breath, but when Quinn finally does, it’s with a beaming bright grin. “You…You _do_?”

And just like that, Rachel’s smile is also splitting her face in two, and it feels like for the first time since realizing she that had a crush on Quinn, she can finally _breathe_ again, and the feeling is so freeing and light that she almost wants to burst into song right then and there. “I’m just- I’m sorry for not responding sooner, I just- I just felt so _relieved_.” Rachel lets out a laugh, the airiness in her chest uplifting. “Santana told me you were on your way to ask me out, and I-”

“Wait, _what_?” Quinn’s voice rings out, and Rachel shrugs, too happy to even care.

“Apparently she’s been scheming with Kurt to get us together,” she supplies.

“Bitch,” Quinn grunts, but the smile behind her tone is too bright to be covered, and Rachel grins along with her like the lovestruck fool she is.

“I thought- I thought the girl you liked was someone else,” she confesses. “And I felt _so_ heartbroken and jealous and I just couldn’t- I couldn’t believe it when they said that you liked me back.”

“I like you back,” Quinn immediately assures her, and her eagerness to do that just makes Rachel’s heart cloud over with warmth and adoration. “I’ve just- I’ve had this plan to ‘woo’ you ever since I figured out that I had a crush on you during the Summer, but then Jesse showed up, and I got scared that I wasn’t enough, even though you just looked so _sad_ when I said when I said I liked someone, and I-” Quinn pauses here, the blush on her face becoming more profound, as if the next part embarrasses her. “I had a bit of a freak-out over it.”

Rachel, of course, is quick to tell the blonde that she was definitely not alone in her plight. “First I was in denial that my attraction to you went beyond physical, and when I figured that out during our sleepover, I was in denial that you would ever like me!”

“I gave you _Gardenias_ , Rachel, I thought for sure you would’ve figured it out, they mean _secret love_ for god’s sake!” Quinn practically exclaims, and Rachel blushes even harder. “And then, well- Well, for a while, I thought that you actually _did_ figure it out, but was just too nice to tell me that you didn’t like me back, and then I kind of freaked out over that too, which was just- _all_ kinds of nerve-racking, really.”

It’s then that Rachel realizes, “Wow. We’ve been real idiots, haven’t we?”

“We have,” Quinn agrees, a smile cracking at her lips, and just like that, it’s like a dam has been broken, because the next thing she knows, they’re both laughing hard at their obliviousness.

When they finally calm down, Rachel shakes her head in awe. “I can’t believe that _Quinn Fabray_ likes me.”

“Santana thought for sure that all my warding people off of you thing would’ve tipped you off,” Quinn shrugs, grin still wide in place. “I just can’t believe that _you_ like _me_.”

“Who _wouldn’t_ like you? You’re the whole package.”

“Oh, you mean of depression, anxiety, and daddy issues?” Quinn snorts.

“Oh har har,” Rachel deadpans, and it’s with their familiar bantering that brings her epiphany. “Huh. We’ve…pretty much been dating this entire time, haven’t we?”

“I…think so, yeah.”

“So…where does that leave us now?” she asks, and she doesn’t even try to keep the hopefulness out of her tone.

“This is the part where I ask to take you out on a date.” Quinn smiles bashfully, and Rachel’s stomach erupts with butterflies at the sight, heartbeat quickening even more even as she keeps a weird sort of calm. “Is it weird that I still feel nervous about doing it?”

“I still feel like this is either just a dream or you’re going to change your mind any second, so I don’t particularly think so, no.”

“I’m not going to change my mind _ever_ Rae.” Quinn frowns, like the very thought repulses her, before she smirks, “You’re my ticket to money and fame. How am I supposed to be a freeloader any way else?”

“Oh hurry up and ask me out Quinn.” Rachel tries to keep the anticipation out of her voice this time, but her chest is airy with all the ‘what-if’s that are actually _happy_ now that she knows that her feelings are returned, and she can’t help but fiddle with her fingers behind her back in nervous excitement.

At this, Quinn’s demeanor shifts into something serious and yet very much of that of a hopeful romantic, a sweet smile dawned as she steps forward to take Rachel’s hands in her own, with her eyes lit up in the way that it always does when she’s about to do something poetic.

“Rachel Barbra Berry, you are my star, my Sun, and my _everything_. You light my entire world up and you are the music residing in my heart.” Here, she pauses in one last show of tentativeness, as if granting Rachel one last chance for an out that she definitely doesn’t want at all, and when Rachel shows no signs of stopping her, Quinn lets out a steady breath. “So, will you grant me the honor of taking you out on a date tomorrow night at 7pm sharp?”

A beat passes with Rachel’s brain processing the words, clouded with a haze of disbelief, and then she’s absolutely _swooning_. Like really, really, _really_ hard, because why the fuck is Quinn Fabray so fucking romantic and sweet and cute and thoughtful and Rachel just kind of (one hundred percent) wants to kiss her for the rest of her life and never let go.

“Yes,” she breathlessly sighs out, grin practically taking over her entire face. “A million times yes.”

The beaming smile that she receives in return makes her heart flutter in all the best ways possible and she goes weak at the knees, but who should give a fuck about that right now? She has a _date_ with Quinn Fabray!

“You’re making me a very happy girl Berry,” Quinn giggles, and the sound is just so beautiful that Rachel resolves to make the blonde laugh every single day of the rest of her life.

“Not as happy as me, no doubt.” She beams in return, and then as a thought occurs to her, she flushes, requesting. “Um, while I am certainly very much elated and currently am dancing in joy internally, this day has kinda been really emotionally taxing, and…I really want to cuddle with you for a while.”

For a second, Quinn looks very happy to agree, but then she’s refraining with a reluctant smile. “But I want to you to have the traditional first date experience,” she argues, a slight whine to her voice that makes Rachel find her even more endearing, and the next part of the blonde’s sentence is said quietly, with her ears pink as if she’s embarrassed. “And well…I’m pretty sure that I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you now that I know you like me back.”

Instantly, Rachel feels a primal _need_ wash over her, because _shit_ , she wants Quinn to kiss her so, _so_ badly, so badly it almost hurts, and she conveys her displeasure through puppy eyes and her biggest pout, aiming it at Quinn in hopes of changing her mind.

“Rae, you know I can’t resist that,” Quinn laughs, though her eyes darken, a gleam in them that makes Rachel’s lower stomach churn. “Come on, it’s just for a day, and then I’ll take you like, on the best date ever, promise.”

“It’ll be the best date ever with cuddles before,” Rachel grumbles good-naturedly, lips still jutted out.

Quinn’s lips tug into a small smile. “How about I give you some romantic words I’ve been wanting to tell you for forever to tide you over for now?”

Rachel _loves_ hearing the blonde speak her beautiful words, so the second she hears that, she’s eagerly nodding, and Quinn laughs lightly. “Don’t kill me if it sucks, okay?”

She doesn’t even waste her time by rolling her eyes, and she huffs, “Quinn, your words are even better than Plato’s. Stop downplaying yourself and tell me how much you adore me already.”

At this, Quinn’s smile turns into something much softer, and Rachel starts regretting her earlier teasing remark a little bit, the moment feeling tender and soft now. “You know, I always hated the fact that I couldn’t _actually_ tell you that all those romantic poems I spouted before were about you and not just about love in general.”

Rachel’s heart goes into overdrive with the words ‘love’, but she knows that they aren’t ready for that at all, so she shoves it to the back of her mind for the moment, instead content to bask in Quinn’s sweet and thoughtful words. “I’m _really_ glad that you decided to come here today,” she confesses instead, eyes seemingly unable to move away from Quinn’s face, just _needing_ memorize every inch and ridge of this moment and seer it into her heart forever. “I don’t think I could’ve weathered another day of not knowing if you liked me back or not.”

“I’m glad too.” Quinn lightly smiles. “Now, hush so I can court you with my amazing words.”

Rachel complies immediately, shutting up so that she can fully concentrate, and Quinn lets out a laugh. “You’re so _precious_ and cute, Rachel Berry.”

Even though her heart flutters at a million times per second at that, she still faux-complains, “I was promised _amazing_ words, Quinn.”

“God, you’re so needy.” Quinn shakes her head fondly, and it’s with that that sends Rachel even more into overdrive, because Quinn finds that _endearing_ instead of annoying, and she’s not quite sure how she had managed to find someone as amazing as the Cheerio. “Now, listen up Berry, I don’t do this for free you know.”

“Oh I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” She sends Quinn a smirk full of promise that surprises even herself, voice suddenly rough and down an octave, and from the depths of her mind, Bi-rry snorts, _So you’re finally learning how to properly flirt? Oh the day has come too soon._

Quinn evidentially doesn’t mind though, judging by her eyebrow quirked in interest, but the blonde shakes it off for now and starts her monologue, eyes passionate.

“She is my complication and she is my absolute. She was never a part of my plan, but she is somehow the foundation and basis of my hypothesis. She is the anomaly in my calculations, the deviation in my deductions, the unorthodoxy in my observations, but yet, she is my paradigm in my revolutions.” Quinn ducks her head shyly at this part, and the next words are softly spoken, whispered with a reference through the air. “Should the day when I have the honor to hold her in my arms and guard her liabilities for even just one night come, then it is then that I can say that I truly have love down to a science.”

For a few seconds, all Rachel can do is stare in awe and wonder of this absolutely _perfect_ human being, and she huffs out a breath. “You made _science_ sound romantic,” she says, breath taken away, because those words are about _her_ , and she has no idea how to respond to that. “…I really, _really_ , want to kiss you right now.”

Quinn closes her eyes in a show of restraint, and the thrill that rushes through Rachel is nothing but a head rush all in itself, knowing that Quinn actively _wants_ her, and it’s with that that  “…Can you- Can you tell me another one?”

“Just one more.” Quinn purses her lips. “I really gotta go plan our date tomorrow.”

At that, the flutter of happiness washes over Rachel again, and she grins uncontrollably. Quinn Fabray has a _crush_ on her, and knowing that makes her feel like the happiest girl on Earth.

“She is my world, and that is my truth,” Quinn starts, voice in its usual husk that sends arousal straight to Rachel’s core. “If one day the world stops turning and I go blue, my perception granted out of benevolence taken away as it was given, let the judge, jury, and executioner search my soul. Should in my heart of hearts, she not stand there, then my world has crumbled. Among all the lies I have told, let this one truth stand true.” Quinn looks her straight in the eye, a braveness entering her, and she finishes, “Rachel Berry is my world, and that is my truth.”

Rachel’s pretty sure she needs to go to the hospital, because her face hurts from smiling too much. She’s also pretty sure that she’s going to have a heart attack any minute soon, because _she’s going on a date with Quinn Fabray, and how the fuck is she going to prepare for it?_

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Walking up the stairs and into her room like a zombie, completely dazed, she doesn’t seem to know where to start processing _any_ of what had happened today, simply plopping into her bed and absolutely emotionally exhausted.

Up until barely twenty minutes ago, she was heartbroken over the fact that the girl she liked had a crush on someone else, and now she has a _date_ with said girl, because apparently Quinn’s crush is _her_ , and the blonde has liked her since fucking _Summer_.

She still can’t quite believe it – This seems like something that would only come out of a romance novel, and while it terrifies her that this might all just be some dream, it also elates her to no end, filling her heart with a giddy excitement. She’s going on a date with Quinn Fabray!

Almost instantly, thoughts of things like _oh god what am I going to wear_ and _how am I supposed to act tomorrow_ come up to the forefront of her mind, and she tries to take a few deep breaths to steady herself, knowing that worrying over things can come tomorrow, with her only needing to remember the basics for tonight, saving all the other things for a day when she isn’t so emotionally-taxed.

_Quinn likes her, and tomorrow at 7pm, she’s going to go on a date with her._

…Oh, who is she kidding, she’s going to jump around her room and squeal into her pillow even if she doesn’t have the strength for it; the girl of her dreams is taking her out on a date and she’s going to celebrate dammit!

_Mmm, does that mean that we get to mas-_

_No!_

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

She’s woken up the next day at exactly 5am, even earlier than her usual wake-up time.

By the sound of Kurt Hummel blowing up her phone.

Biting her lip and rubbing her sleepy eyes groggily, she reaches over to grab at her phone, accepting the call with a yawn. “Hello, this is Rachel Berry speaking.”

“Rachel!” Kurt’s voice rings out loudly in her ears, causing her to wince as she puts it further away from her ear.

“Yes?” she asks in reply, still polite as ever in classic Rachel Berry fashion, and it occurs to her then the reason why Kurt is sounding so excited, making her lips curl at the reminder. “I assume you want details of what had transpired yesterday?”

“Duh, of course woman, now spill!” is the shrill cry she gets in response.

She suppresses a laugh, feeling much better today after a good night of sleep. “You say that like Santana hasn’t forced everything out of Quinn yet.”

“Quinn’s salty that Satan was nosy and is punishing her for it,” Kurt supplies easily. “Now you wouldn’t do that to your best friend, would you?”

“I thought my best friend was Quinn,” Rachel tries her best not to snigger.

Kurt lets out a heaving sigh. “Oh please, you two were practically dating the way you were before,” he huffs. “So that doesn’t count.”

“Looks like _someone’s_ jealous,” Rachel teases with her tone light, before she thinks back to the absolute amazingness that was yesterday night, and it turns into something much softer. “It was…It was _wonderful_ ,” she breathes out. “She was so sweet, and then she said such _beautiful_ words to me, and at the end, when she asked me out…”

She draws this one out for her desire to linger on the bursting feelings of joy as much as she does it for her love of theatrics, and Kurt huffs impatiently. “Well?”

“I said yes, of course!” Rachel’s voice comes out as a girly squeal, much higher in pitch than her already usually chirpy tone, and Kurt joins her without a beat.

It lasts for all but a few seconds, and then Rachel is freaking out, all those suppressed worries from yesterday coming back up with a fervor. “Kurt!” she practically screeches. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear or do!”

There’s a brief silence from the other side of the phone, and then Kurt’s solemn voice is filling the static air. “Fear not, I’ll be there in ten,” he says resolutely. “And then I’ll make you look so hot Quinn isn’t going to be able to take her eyes off you.”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

It’s somewhere in this ten-minute gap that Rachel realizes that she has to talk to her fathers about this, and her chest seems to swell up with something that she doesn’t know if it’s fear or excitement.

But she knows that her daddy would definitely kill her if she doesn’t inform him of these recent events, and it’s only with a bit of a tentative heart that she walks down the stairs to find them, already settled in the kitchen like the morning birds that they are.

“Fathers,” she starts, biting on her inner lip softly. “I have an announcement to make.”

Leroy quirks an eyebrow at her. “Please don’t tell me that you’re back in denial.”

“That would be a very major regression, yes,” Hiram agrees. “Plus, Lee and I are already expecting wedding invitations soon, I’ve already started planning it!”

“Wedding invitations?” Rachel splutters, neck flushed.

Her dad sends an amused smile her way. “Hiram’s just being a bit too excited, that’s all,” he chuckles. “But I am expecting a Spring wedding. Love the colors and all that, though I have to admit, Quinn and baby blue is practically a match made in heaven.”

“But- But we’re literally just having our first date _tonight_!” Rachel bursts out, red in the face and mind now filled with thoughts of a beautiful Spring wedding.

_And also Quinn in a baby blue bikini. Don’t forget about that._

_Bi-rry, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m currently having a mini-breakdown over thoughts of a wedding with Quinn Fabray when we haven’t even had our first_ date _!_

_And_ I’m _currently having a mini-breakdown over thoughts of what exactly will happen that night of the wedding, imagine all the-_

_That’s it. Ignoring you._

_Bitch, you know that Quinn likes you now, so that means it’s totally fine to fantasize over her!_

_No, it still isn’t-_

_Like we haven’t been humping our pillow at night when we get too horny._

_Look! The point is that even though Quinn…likes us, it’s still very inappropriate to use her for sexual gratification!_

_Ain’t gonna stop us from doing it though._

_…I hate how right you are sometimes._

_We’re Rachel Berry, we’re_ always _right, though I do guess I’m more correct most of the time. Speaking of which, you should probably start listening to your dads’ rambling._

_Wait what?_

“-when did this happen, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us the moment it happened, I’m so disappointed in you Rachel, I thought you knew better, I mean, how else are we supposed to start planning out all the-”

“Hiram,” Leroy gently reminds him, and Rachel is snapped out of her daze, barely registering what her daddy had said before.

“Um, it- it happened yesterday night,” she speaks, a shy lift to her voice even though she’s practically bubbling with excitement. “She told me that the girl she liked was actually me, and well…we’re going on a date tonight.”

She practically squeals out the last part, face stretching into a wide beam, and there’s exactly three seconds until Hiram is jumping with delight. “Oh god you two are so perfect together,” he shrieks in a way that is completely similar to Kurt. “I can’t believe that we’re going to have an _Ivy Leaguer_ in our family, Lee, I mean-”

At the combo of both paling and coloring showing on Rachel’s face, her dad tries to placate his husband, “Hold on a second baby, you’re scaring our darling Rachel here.” He holds in a laugh at the indignant look on her face. “And who says that Quinn is going to an Ivy League school anyway, they’re just juniors you know.”

“Eh schematics,” Hiram waves the notion away. “And they’ll be married and having babies before we even know it.”

“Daddy!” Rachel colors.

“Yes, baby girl?” Hiram simply bats his eyelashes at her, completely nonchalant.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Rachel maybe stomps her foot a bit (a lot) with a petulant pout, and Leroy laughs, “Okay okay we’ll stop for now.”

At that, Hiram huffs out, “Says you, I need to plan out baby names, oh- do you think that-”

“ _Hiram_ ,” Leroy gently chides, and the shorter man rolls his eyes with a pout rivalling Rachel’s, mumbling a childish ‘fine’ in response. Leroy simply laughs, shaking his head, and he turns to Rachel with a semi-serious look in his eyes.

“Rachel, no matter how much you think you aren’t, you’re still our baby girl.” His lips quirk upwards when she narrows her eyes, and he continues, “And even though it seems like we’re all for you being with Quinn, we don’t want to see you get hurt, so tell us that we’re making the right choice here, that we’ll feel safe in letting Quinn take care of you.”

It faintly occurs to her that her dad’s wording is less of a ‘first-date’ speech and definitely more of a ‘hand-in-marriage’ speech, but Rachel thinks that deep inside, they all _know_ that this thing between her and Quinn is going to be special, something that will _last_ , and it’s why Leroy is so serious in this.

But somehow, she doesn’t feel that pressure at all, because it feels as if everything has led to this pinnacle moment, and she’s finally accepted that, accepted that Quinn is _it_ for her, and her face stretches with a bashful smile.

“She…She makes me happy,” she says finally, the last few words almost coming out as a laugh, heart filled with so much joy and affection that she can’t help but have it all burst out, bubbling out of her chest. “She makes me smile, she makes me laugh, and she just- she makes me so _happy_ , and it’s like I want to be there, standing by her side, just to make her happy in return, because that’s what makes _me_ happy, and I want to do that every day for the rest of my life…Does that make sense?”

The words seem to come out of her without command, flowing out of her mouth as if demanding to be heard, and she watches as her fathers exchange looks. There’s silence for a few beats, and for a second, she’s worried, but then both of them are cracking smiles of their own, though theirs hold a tint of sadness, as if knowing that she’s really grown up now.

Finally, it’s Leroy who speaks first. “She really makes you happy, huh?”

“She does,” Rachel beams, ducking her head.

“…You know what else means happy?”

The little smirk on her dad’s face probably should tip her off immediately, but by the time she pieces it together and lets out a groan, Hiram is already continuing, “Honey, she makes you gay!”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

True to his word, the speed at which Kurt arrives is practically faster than light, and when he shows up at her front door, she’s practically sighing with relief, already back to stressing out over her date with Quinn. “Oh thank _god_ you’re here.”

But really, can she just take a moment to recognize how utterly amazing those words sound? She has a _date_ with Quinn Fabray! Her. On a date. With Quinn!

_Honestly I think that the sound of her moaning would be better, I mean have you even_ heard _her voice?_

_Dammit Bi-rry! I can’t think about that_ now _, we have a date with Quinn – oh_ fuck _does that sound good – to think about!_

_And_ I _have potential a sex marathon to think about! …Actually, now that you bring that up, I should probably be on your side more, go listen to Kurt now._

_…Why are you helping me?_

_Because Kurt is definitely going to make us look hot as fuck, and I’m thinking that we can probably finally get laid tonight even with your blushing-virgin pretense._

_You know what, I’m not even going to care about that earlier part, but_ pretense _, what-_

_Bitch, you act like I don’t see how in all our fantasies we basically beg Quinn to fuck us senseless with all the dirty talk in the world!_

_…_

_Yeah, reliving those fantasies again are such a turn-on, the one where Quinn is-_

_Crap, we have to listen to Kurt!_

_Oh, so_ now _when we start getting to the good stuff is when you choose to take my advice._

_Gah, you’re so frustrating!_

“Rachel, where did you go?” Kurt snaps his fingers in front of her, and Rachel nervously smiles, hoping that the boy won’t pay much attention to her flushed checks. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice as he shakes his head. “Never mind that, you must be worried sick! I mean, I don’t blame you, you’re going on a date with the most sought-after girl in Lima, you _have_ to be-”

“Kurt, you’re not making any of this much better!” Rachel grits out, trying to contain her inner panic now that she’s gotten riled up.

“Trust me Rachel, I will,” Kurt nods soberly, before his features soften. “And…I know I don’t tell you this enough, but you have a _rocking_ bod, with legs that _kill_.”

She blushes slightly at the compliment, but she’s proud that she’s at least physically appealing – oblivious as she may be, she’s caught Quinn staring at her legs numerous times before, the stares she gets nowadays that she’s dressing better enforcing that, and for that at least, she’s grateful.

And well…it also helps that Quinn glares daggers at those who dare leer at her, tucking her protectively under her arm as to make sure none of the boys try something.

_Possessively, more like,_ Bi-rry snorts, and the realization dawns on her.

_Ooooh._

_Oh, right._

_…We really were blind, weren’t we?_

_Excuse_ you _, I knew she was hot for us the entire time!_

_Yeah yeah, you can stop with the lecture, alright?_

_Eh. I like talking about how hot Quinn is when she’s possessive anyway._

_…_ Fuck _._

_And yet, we seem to be doing none of that at the moment._

_…_

_You’re imagining it now, aren’t you?_

_Quinn. Fuck._

_Dammit, listen to Kurt!_

_Right!_

It’s at moment that she hears her phone chime with a notification for a new text, and both her and Kurt squeal in excitement, though there’s definitely an undertone of anxiousness in her voice.

Looking at Kurt with her eyes wide, words tumble out from her lips uncontrollably. “Oh god she texted me what am I supposed to do?” 

“Read it, of course!” Kurt shrills back, and when Rachel can’t seem to force her limbs to move, he gives her an incredulous look. “Well? What are you waiting for, woman?”

It’s what spurs her into action, and she scrambles to her bedside, grabbing her phone and unlocking it. But before she can glance at the message, she shakes her head. “I- I can’t.”

Kurt lets out a groan. “ _Why_ , Rachel?”

“Maybe- Maybe she’s changed her mind, or maybe she has a thing to do urgently so we’ll have to reschedule, or maybe I’m hallucinating and this is all just a fabrication of my mind and-”

“Oh that’s it, I can’t deal with you anymore,” Kurt huffs in exasperation as he rolls his eyes, reaching over to grab her phone before she can even register the movement, and her yelp of protest is quickly muffled as he reads the text. “ _Dress casual, with preferably jeans. See you soon, xoxo._ ”

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re both screaming again.

“Okay, okay!” Kurt shrieks, “Charcoal jeans, white top, black jacket, and I think you can get away with wearing a beanie because it’s cold. Rachel, sit down right now, there are only twelve hours and a _lot_ of work to do.”

Well…This is going to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope yall enjoyed it, and as always, special thanks to the people who left kudos and commented.   
> I feel like absolute shit today, I’m so off-schedule with my writing I think I’m gonna die. *cough* I’m highkey freaking out since I still haven’t done my Summer homework or finished the next chaper *cough* someone save meeeeee


	14. V. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where YOU PEOPLE FINALLY GET WHAT YOU WANT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three weeks of procrastination and writer’s block, I finally got this done lol. (ARE YOU HAPPY VICKY?) Hopefully I’ll get back on track with my writing schedule soon, there are so many one-shots/chapters that I should’ve finished by now ahhhh. Blame my stack of homework :p

7pm arrives all too soon and yet all too slowly, and looking in the mirror to check for any last wrinkles on her dress or any imperfections in her light makeup, she wills herself to stop checking the clock frantically and breathe in and out of her nose instead.

_Steady breaths Rachel. Steady breaths._

There’s tranquility for a moment, and then…Oh who’s she kidding, she’s about to combust from her nerves, both good and bad!

_Get it together, woman!_

_I_ can’t _, what if I do something and this goes horribly wrong, or what if I freeze up when she’s about to kiss us- Oh god what if she tries to_ kiss _us?_

_You know, I’d probably be more worried about our kissing technique._

_…K-Kissing technique?_

_Mmhmm._

_Fuck I think I’m gonna pass out from having a heart attack!_

_Bitch are you seriously believing me when I tell you to worry about our kissing technique?_

_Yes!_

_Ooohhh my god, are you fucking kidding me? We’re totally an awesome kisser._

_Our only experiences have been Finn and Jesse!_

_Ew, don’t remind me of the F word’s sloppy kissing, I think I’m gonna vomit. Blech, think thoughts of Quinn instead, thoughts of Quinn…_

_Don’t be so mean to Finn, he was an…okay kisser. Okay, maybe subpar, but it wasn’t_ terrible _._

_Ugh seriously, staaahp trying to pretend that he wasn’t, we’re already so turned off at the thought of him and no amount of imagining Quinn in a bikini or wearing a strap-on is helping, dammit!_

_Bi-rry, we’re literally about to go on our first date with Quinn, and_ that’s _what you’re thinking about?_

_…Yes?_

_We’re supposed to be freaking out over our date!_

_Correction,_ you’re _freaking out over our date, and_ I’m _freaking out over what Quinn’s going to wear…and_ especially _what’s under it._

_…You’re really frustrating most of the time, you know that?_

_Well, considering that I_ am _you, yeah, I know it pretty well. Plus, this is all sexual frustration, because_ someone _won’t let me masturbate!_

It’s at that second that the doorbell rings out, loud and clear, and Rachel nearly jumps out of her skin, letting out an alarmed squeak.

_Oh god it’s happening it’s happening!_

Coaching herself to emit steady breaths, she tries hard to pretend that her legs don’t feel wobbly, and with her heart beating out of its ribcage with loud thumps that signify both terror and anticipation, she forces herself to relax.

Somehow, she manages to get herself out of her room and down the stairs in less than a minute, definitely not wanting to have only her dads greet Quinn at the door, and when she reaches the entry-way, it almost feels like she’s about to get a jump-scare at any minute.

 _Deep breaths Rachel_ , she repeats to herself in her head. _Deep breaths._

From beside her, Hiram is practically bubbling in excitement while Leroy edges forward to open the door, and for a second, Rachel is deathly afraid that this is all a dream, that this is going to shatter at any moment, and she holds in her breath.

_Boo!_

_Fuck you. Just…fuck you._

_Bet you’d looove that, narcissist that we are. Though, I’d bet we’d love fucking Quinn even better._

_…_

_You imagining fucking Quinn again?_

_…_

_Rachel? Heelloo?_

_…_

_Oh._ Oh!

_…Yup._

_Oh holy shit Quinn looks fucking amazing!_

_I know, look at those jeans, they’re sticking to her curves like second skin!_

_Eh, I like how her camisole is showing off her tits more, I mean, look at them!_

_But her arms are covered by her denim jacket, I can’t see her muscles dammit!_

_Oh, are we having this debate again? It’s almost_ Winter _, and later, if we ‘accidentally’ leave our jacket in the car, she’ll have to give us hers, it’s a genius plan!_

Wow _we’re smart, I approve of this plan!_

_But really, all in all…_

_She looks…_

“Perfect.”

She doesn’t even realize that she’d said it until Quinn bites down on her lip cutely with her cheeks tinted, and Rachel flushes instantly. “I meant- You just look…”

“You look beautiful, Rachel,” Quinn finishes for her, lips curved in a smile as her eyes take her in. “Absolutely amazing.”

Rachel can’t seem to muster a response other than grinning widely, eyes still raking over Quinn’s form with reverent eyes, and Quinn smirks, instead turning to Leroy and Hiram with a box of chocolate.

“Gifts for the Berrymen,” she sings.

Hiram’s eyes light up immediately. “Oh I like gifts,” he perks up. “Gimme gimme.”

Rachel finally snaps out of her reverie – because even if this turns out to be a dream, she’s going to enjoy and savor this dammit – and pouts, jutting her lower lip out. “Hey, I’m the one you’re supposed to be courting, where’s my gift?” she whines.

Quinn turns to her again, smile gaining a softer edge, and it’s almost like time slows down around them in a perfect cliché, taking Rachel’s breath away. “Why, for you my lady, I of course have a gift prepared,” the blonde drawls, lips curled. “Just gotta make sure your parents will allow me in again first.”

From the side, Hiram is already stuffing the chocolate in his mouth. “Oh, this is good,” he groans, nodding along. “Really, come by whenever you want Quinn, this tastes _delicious_!”

When Rachel blushes with embarrassment, Leroy sighs with a fond smile and tugs at his husband’s arm. “Hiram, let’s give the girls some privacy, okay?”

The Jewish man looks as if he wants to protest, but one pointed look from Leroy sends him pouting instead. “Fine,” he begrudgingly agrees. “You girls have fun.”

“I know you two have school off tomorrow, but come back before midnight,” Leroy reminds with a semi-stern tone, and with that, he drags Hiram away, who’s mouthing ‘two o’clock’ at them, leaving Rachel alone with Quinn.

Suddenly unsure of what to do, she tentatively smiles, and Quinn chuckles, voice breathy. “I bet you’re just _itching_ to know what my gift is, aren’t you?”

Rachel bites down on her lip, before her grin turns meek. “…Yes.”

“Of course you are,” Quinn’s lips quirk upwards as she shakes her head, and Rachel makes a small whining sound from the back of her throat.

“Honestly Quinn, if you’re just going to dangle the prospect of a gift in front of me and not deliver, I’d rather-”

“Rachel,” the blonde cuts in, and Rachel huffs at being interrupted, about to go on another tirade, but then Quinn takes out something from her jacket, presenting it to her, and Rachel looks downward with eager and curious eyes.

When she does, her heart stops.

Because Quinn’s holding out a blue-tinted glass heart, with pressed Gardenias encased in them, and Rachel is enraptured, unable to take her eyes off of it.

“Those Gardenias I gave you before were meant to tell you of my secret love,” Quinn speaks softly, almost a whisper in its reverence. “This…This is me proclaiming that my love isn’t secret anymore.”

With that, the blonde pushes the glass heart into Rachel’s hand, and as her fingertips grasp onto the golden rim of the object, only slightly bigger than her hand, it feels weighty and _there_ , almost like it’s cementing the fact that this is actually happening, that is this actually _real_ , and Rachel can’t manage words, eyes simply trained on the glass-heart.

She feels her face stretch into the widest of grins, with a few beats passing in silence, and then finally, in a tone that is almost shy, Quinn asks, “Do you like them?”

It’s what prompts Rachel to shake out of her stupor, eyes flickering up to meet hesitant yet hopeful hazels, and she can’t stop her body moving to hug the life out of the blonde even if she wanted to. “I love it,” she beams.

“Oh. That’s-That’s good,” Quinn breathes into her hair, and Rachel basks in how good it feels to be in Quinn’s arms – Quinn, her _date_ – for a second, before she realizes something, and she’s pulling away with a guilty look.

“Quinn, I- I didn’t get you a gift of my own.” She frowns.

“So?” The blonde quirks a brow at her. “I’m the one who’s taking you out on a date anyway.”

“But I want to able to make you feel special too.” Rachel nibbles on her lower lip. “…You deserve that much, at least.”

Quinn’s eyes soften, and the next thing she knows, she’s being enveloped in strong and safe arms again, and she’s unable to stop the content sigh that tumbles out of her lips. Every single interaction that transpires between her and Quinn feels so much more significant now, because Quinn _likes_ her, as more than a friend, and that just makes everything so much _better_.

“You don’t have to give me stuff to make me feel special Rae,” the Cheerio murmurs, a light smile playing on her lips that just makes Rachel’s stomach do little flips and tumbles. “You already do that by just _being here_ , and when you smile at me, you make me feel so, _so_ special, you have no idea.”

“If it’s even a fraction of the way I feel when you look at me, then trust me, I definitely do,” Rachel says, blushing, before she purses her lips. “I still want to give you something though.”

“Would it be cheesy to ask you to give me your heart?” Quinn grins cheekily, and Rachel almost wants to whisper that she already has it, but then the blonde is continuing, “You can take me out instead next time, you’ll be fine.”

“N-Next time?” she squeaks.

Here, Quinn’s look turns shy. “If- If you want to.”

“I want to,” she immediately replies, before blushing at her over-eagerness. “I mean, I- I’d _love_ to.”

There’s a vague voice in her head freaking out over ‘crap, does that mean we have another date with her’ and ‘holy fuck how are we going to be able to plan it’, but she pushes all of that to the back of her mind, because this night is already so _perfect_ , and she’s going to enjoy this to the fullest.

Setting the glass heart aside into one of the drawers near her with a reverent hand, not sure if this is actually real or not, she turns back to Quinn, who’s offering her arm out like the chivalrous person she is.

Rachel takes it gladly, the feeling of Quinn’s arm in hers immeasurably perfect, and blonde opens the door for her before Rachel can have the chance to do so herself, bowing dramatically. “My lady.”

“Why, thank you,” she laughs in return.

And as they get into Quinn’s car, Rachel knows that this is probably going to be one of the most magical nights of her life.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

“Ohmygod, Quuiiinnn,” she whines. “Tell me where are we going, dammit!”

Quinn simply sends her a smirk. “You’ll see when we get there, and no amount of pouting or giving me puppy-eyes will work.”

“But- But-”

“No buts.” Quinn shakes her head, and Rachel can just _tell_ that the blonde is suppressing a laugh.

She continues to beg and plead for a good ten minutes to no avail, and she slumps against her seat, arms crossed as she turns away.

“Oh, don’t look so down,” Quinn says, eyes still shining with laughter. “You look pathetic and sad, and I don’t like it when you look like that.”

“Well serves you right,” Rachel huffs. “You better make it up to me with the perfect date Fabray.”

“Oh I will,” Quinn drawls, voice so full of promise that Rachel can’t help the rolls of anticipation that reverberate through her body. The Cheerio reaches down to stroke her thigh teasingly, and Rachel’s breath hitches, just to be met with, “…But I’m still not telling you where we’re going.”

She hmpfs and turns her head to the other side once more, but nonetheless, she can’t hide her smile, full of giddiness that she’s going on a date with Quinn Fabray, which is like, the best thing to ever happen to her!

Quinn seems to be as excited as her, as there’s a pleased aura coming off of her, and it fills Rachel’s heart with the most airy of feelings when she realizes that she’s actually the one who’s doing this, who’s making the blonde _happy_ , and she finds that she wants to do just that for the rest of her life.

When Quinn finally parks nearby a secluded park trail, it feels like an almost-eternity has passed, even though Rachel knows that it’s only been around twenty minutes. Still, twenty minutes is a long drive when put in terms of small-town Lima, and she lets the blonde lead her out of the car with curious eyes.

“So now can you tell me what we’re doing here?” she asks, glancing around the tranquil park trail, not a single person in sight.

Quinn shoots a shit-eating grin at her. “Nope.”

“I don’t like you.” Rachel pouts good-naturedly. “You’re a meanie.”

At this, the blonde gasps dramatically. “Excuse me, _who_ exactly, is the person who planned out a whole amazing date for you?”

Rachel’s heart threatens to go into overdrive at the reminder that she’s actually going on a date that Quinn’s planned and prepared for, and she has trouble hiding her smile as she says, “Well, this better turn out to be amazing soon.”

“It’s not amazing already?” Quinn places a hand over her heart in faux-shock. “Oh how you hurt my heart, Rachel Berry.”

Unable to keep up the façade any longer, Rachel giggles, and she hesitates for a second before quickly leaning forward to plant a kiss on the Cheerio’s cheek. When she pulls back, there’s a light pink on Quinn’s face, and she’s met with a wide smile.

“There,” she says softly, heartbeat loudly thumping in her ears. “All better?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Quinn drawls, though the breathy tone of her voice gives her away. “You should try again, just to make sure.”

Biting her lip gently, Rachel’s heart speeds up even more if it’s even possible, and she presses her lips on Quinn’s cheek once more, right at the corner of the blonde’s lips, and this time she lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, knowing that she won’t able to control herself if she stays in the taller girl’s orbit any longer.

Her lips buzz with electricity, tingling in the best ways possible, and it makes her feel all sorts of giddy, because her lips were just in contact with Quinn Fabray, and fuck did it feel good! She’s suddenly filled with the urge to test if kissing the honor-roll student’s lips would feel even better, and she blushes immediately.

Quinn definitely notices. “I was hoping you’d do it just a bit more to the side, but that works too I guess.” Here, she leans in closer with eyes gleaming, so close that if Rachel just moves forward just a bit, she would- stop, bad Rachel!

Quinn smirks, lips curling in an absolutely delectable line, and Rachel can feel warm breathing puffing against her, igniting her already overheated skin. “Plus, I’m saving our first kiss. It’s gonna be absolutely _perfect_ , because you deserve it that way.”

Feeling her breath hitch, Rachel reflexively swallows, heart skipping a few beats, and she feels as if she’s trapped in pools of hazel eyes, drawing her in and keeping her there forever. “I hope you know I don’t kiss on the first date, Fabray,” she finally manages, licking her lips.

When Quinn’s eyes trace the action with fervor, Rachel feels a wave of heat wash over her, because Quinn actually _wants_ her, and having someone appreciate her makes her feel like she matters, like she’s treasured and _special_ , and she knows that if Quinn allows it, she’s definitely going to be kissing on the first date.

“Not if I have anything to do about it,” Quinn husks, and Rachel’s knees go weak as she closes her eyes for a second to reign herself in.

“Oh?” she baits. “I’d like to see you try.”

At this point, Quinn’s eyes are so dark it’s like she’s being watched by a predator, and if anything, that just gets her going even more, makes her lower stomach churn with arousal. “I will,” the blonde promises. “But that’s not going to happen if we just keep standing here.”

_Ha, she has no idea how hot she is even when she’s just standing, we’d maul her even if she was wearing a trash bag!_

_…True._

_Mmm, what are the odds I can convince you to just let loose and make out with her right here and then?_

_It’s…slowly rising up._

_Eh, I’ll take my chances._

“Rae, we gotta get going, or we’ll be late,” Quinn gently reminds.

Pushing away the haze of lust clouding her mind for the moment, she perks up eagerly. “Ooh, are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“No,” Quinn chuckles, a fond look on her face. “But you’ll find out soon if you actually get that cute ass of yours moving.”

Rachel goes very willingly after that, dragging Quinn along the path with a pep to her step – totally not spurred on because Quinn called her ass cute – and after a while, they reach an open clearing.

Gasping when she sees the large picnic set up in the middle, with glowing candles and lanterns lighting up the space around it, she turns to Quinn with shining eyes, amazed. “You- You did this?”

Quinn gives her a slightly sheepish smile, as if embarrassed. “I might’ve called in a few favors so that this was set up when we were driving here. That’s why, uh- That’s why the food is still fresh and stuff.”

Spinning around to face the blonde, Rachel feels her face stretch into a wide beam, and she launches herself at the girl, wrapping her arms around a lithe frame. “You’re- You’re amazing,” she breathes out. “And you have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”

“Trust me, if it’s even a fraction of how much I want to kiss you, then I know.” Quinn nuzzles her chin against Rachel’s head, and the cheerleader nudges her slightly. “Now, go look the other way.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Rachel does as she’s asked, and when she’s met with the sight of a giant movie screen, her jaw drops. “Quinn…”

“It was a pain in the ass finding the people who were in charge of playing movies, you know?” Quinn smiles, hand firmly clasped in Rachel’s. “But I managed to get them to clear the place out, just for us.”

“What- _How_?”

Quinn’s smile dims a bit here, eyes turning somewhat reminiscent. “I knew them from church,” she explains, a small quirk to her lips in that way of hers, as if she thinks it’s amusing. “Said that I wanted to bring a group of elderly here to watch movies, as a way to atone for my ‘sins’. They bought it of course, and gladly gave me the entire night to do whatever I wanted.”

Rachel feels the butterflies in her stomach dissipate. “But Quinn, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did Rae,” the blonde cuts her off, a slight roll to her eyes. “…You definitely deserve it, anyway.”

Her heart warms at that, but she pushes it away for now as she turns back to Quinn, shaking her head. “Quinn, you…you put yourself into a vulnerable state, and you had to hide your true self from others just for this date. You know I would’ve been perfectly fine with the classic dinner and a movie right?”

“I like one-upping everyone else Berry, get used to it,” Quinn chuckles dryly, before she arches a brow in a perfect line. “And who’s to say that I didn’t enjoy manipulating the hell out of those assholes?”

Rachel sends a pointed look to the blonde, and Quinn sighs, reaching over to take her hand. “Look Rach,” she sighs. “You can lecture me all you want later, but right now, I really just want to enjoy our date. I’ve been looking forward to this day for _months_ , and well- well I kinda want this to just be… _perfect_.”

Quinn’s words alone turn Rachel to mush already, and with the added effect of the Cheerio’s hopeful lip-bite, Rachel practically melts. Becomes jelly. Swoons, take your pick. Seriously, who could ever resist a Quinn Fabray looking like _that_?

“It would already be perfect, because I’m going on a date with _you_ ,” Rachel shrugs, a bashful smile on her lips, and with a quick burst of bravery, she lifts Quinn’s hand up to land a soft kiss on it, lips meeting soft alabaster skin. She pulls away hastily though, red on her cheeks, and she tries to play it off. “Now go and shower me with picnic food.”

“As my lady commands.” Quinn’s lips part in a perfect smile, and Rachel instantly feels proud of herself for making it appear.

Letting the Cheerio guide her to the meticulously set up picnic, she opens one of the baskets with an eager hand, and Quinn slaps her hand away, chuckling. “Oi, hands off the goods. That’s dessert.”

“Fine,” Rachel pouts, but as soon as Quinn brings out the pasta, she perks up, eyes lighting up. “Ooh, gimme!”

“So needy,” Quinn laughs, but the taller girl still obeys, serving her some on a plate as she hands over some utensils. “There you go.”

Not even bothering to ask if its vegan, Rachel digs in immediately, and when she recognises from the taste that Quinn definitely cooked this herself, she turns to the blonde with awed eyes. “You cooked all of the food?”

“It’s not poisoned Berry, you’ll be fine.” Quinn’s lips quirk. “My food can’t be _that_ terrible.”

“Quinn, stop fishing for compliments, we all know how much I adore your food.” Rachel rolls her eyes good-naturedly, even though the thought of Quinn making food just for her causes her stomach to do somersaults and flips, making her heart speed up dangerously. “It makes you look desperate, and begging isn’t a good look on you.”

“Oh Rae, you really should know by now that I can make _anything_ look good on me,” Quinn smirks, leaning in with a gleam in her eyes as if she’s a lioness closing in on her prey, and Rachel shudders, chills running up her skin along with the cool wind. “Though, you _definitely_ would know how begging would look, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah?” she goads, not able to manage much more, as Quinn is literally _right there_ , and the urge to lean forward and close that excruciatingly small distance is so strong that she feels like she’s going to combust any second.

“Mmhmm,” Quinn hums, voice smooth and low. “Because Rachel, by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be _begging_ for more.”

At that, Rachel can’t hold in the utterly desperate sound that slips out of her lips anymore, and she groans. “Quinn, you can’t do this to me right now,” she grits out, tone rough and restrained.

“Oh? And why not?” the blonde husks, eyes darkened and burning golden. “I can do anything I want to you Rae, because I know you’d _let_ _me_.”

It’s right then that it all seems to reach a boiling point, and Rachel’s about to lean in and just _take_ what’s being dangled in front of her, but then Quinn’s pulling away and offering, “Drink?”

The blonde looks nonchalant as ever, the only sign being her low tone and hooded eyes, and Rachel closes her eyes. “Fuck me,” she mutters under her breath. “Just…fuck me.”

“Huh, guess you don’t want a drink after all.” Quinn shrugs easily, before adding an offhand, “And I’d love to do that, but _you’re_ the one who said no kissing on the first date, so I’d assume we’d have to wait till at _least_ date fourteen for sex.”

…Yeah, Rachel is seriously going to die of sexual frustration one of these days, isn’t she?

 _Pretty much, yeah,_ Bi-rry supplies.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

The movie soon starts after that, with the black screen flickering on, and Rachel perks up, bringing her attention away from the (delicious) food and to the movie screen.

To her right, she hears Quinn let out a chuckle at her eagerness, and she feels the blonde shuffle closer to her, so that their shoulders and arms are touching. It’s a physical contact that is already familiar to them, but Rachel can’t help the blush that appears on her face, as if she’s a schoolgirl going on her first date.

Shyly sneaking a glance to her right, she finds Quinn’s cheeks slightly flushed pink as well, but before she can dart her eyes away, hazel eyes meet hers, and she’s unable to look away, the sheer intensity of the blonde’s gaze captivating.

“You are aware that the movie’s starting, right?” Quinn’s lips quirk.

Her eyes immediately move to full, kissable lips at the action, and she breathlessly hums, “But you’re so much prettier to look at.”

Quinn’s lips stretch wider at that, and then Rachel’s being burrowed into the Cheerio’s form, both of them snuggling up closer. Soaking in the warmth and protection, she lets out a satisfied sigh, and Quinn reminds, “Rae, the food’s going to get cold.”

“Yeah yeah, watch the movie and eat the food. Got it.”

“At least _try_ to sound happy about it, won’t you?” Quinn snorts, and Rachel turns her head without a beat, about to express how much she truly appreciates all of this, but then Quinn’s rolling her eyes and continuing, “And I swear Berry, if you don’t _eat_ , I’m going to spoon-feed it to you myself.”

It almost seems to reinforce her earlier belief, and when Rachel turns back to the movie, it’s with a smile.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

The rest of the dinner-and-movie almost seems like something out of the happiest of romcoms, with lingering touches and longing looks, and even when the end-credits to the movie rolls, Rachel still feels the air around her tingle, charged with an electricity that is both hot and airy with giddiness at the same time.

Setting aside the long-finished plate of dessert aside, she meets Quinn’s eyes, and the blonde grins, that special smile that is wide and _happy_. “Did you like it?”

Truthfully, Rachel didn’t even pay much attention to the movie, more occupied with stealing glances at Quinn the entire time, but she still beams back stupidly. “I did,” she hums. “Thank you for bringing me out here.”

“Thank you for letting me.” The blonde’s eyes shine with sincerity, and she pushes herself up (with so much grace it’s practically unfair) to stand, offering her hand out. “Now, my lady, shall we take a night-time stroll?”

Rachel lets loose a giggle, thoroughly enjoying this old-fashioned banter they have going on, and takes Quinn’s hand in her own, getting up to her feet as well. “We shall.”

They clean up the picnic fast enough, packing it all neatly into the baskets, and they walk arm in arm around the trail, talking about everything and nothing at all.

They talk more about how Quinn had barricaded herself in her room for a week after realizing that she liked girls, or more specifically _Rachel_ , and they talk about how Rachel had practically worked herself into a frenzy while fretting over if Quinn’s sweet gestures actually meant something.

They laugh over how oblivious and blind they were, and Rachel just _loves_ how they’re able to just do this, walking around aimlessly while chattering about things varying in importance, because it doesn’t really matter in the long run.

What matters is that they’re enjoying the other’s company, exploring and finding out about all the small things, and the dynamic they have is just _special_ , something that Rachel thinks she will never grow tired of.

Even better is that before, it seemed like certain topics couldn’t be discussed further in depth, especially regarding love and the future, but now that they’re actually _doing this_ , going on a date as _more-than-friends_ , it’s like the floodgates have opened, and Quinn’s musings about love just seem to become even more passionate.

When Rachel works up the courage to ask her about it, she’s met with a quirk of lips. “Believe it or not, I was actually restraining myself before, because I was afraid that I’d slip up about some things. I was worried you’d end up figuring out that the person I was waxing poetry about was more a five-foot-two loudmouth than something out of the abstract instead.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she huffs at Quinn’s smirk, before a thought occurs to her, and a slow smile stretches across her face. “Now Miss Fabray, tell me more about this poetry of yours.”

Quinn grins, before rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “You just want to listen to more words about you, don’t you?”

“I’m narcissistic, we all know that,” Rachel waves off, and her eyes light up. “Now tell me how much you adore me.”

“I’m starting to feel like you like me more for my words than anything else,” Quinn says dryly, and Rachel scoffs at the notion.

“Quinn, I like you for _you_ ,” she’s quick to assure. “Your words are just a part of the package.”

“Yeah yeah,” the blonde faux-grumbles, before straightening to deliver her monologue. “Like the rising tide sweeping me off my feet, the gust of wind guiding me to a destination I may never reach, or the light illuminating another path that takes me away from my unforgiving destiny, she is my wayfinder. I may never see her, but I know she is always there, beckoning me with the call of an angel.

“She is the reason why I do the things I do in this mundane and melancholic ordinary world of manipulation and deceit, the reason I find strength to face my faceless sins blared by the light, and the reason I am able to give my faith to the vulnerability of the dark night.” Quinn takes a breath here, and Rachel is nothing but enamoured, hanging on to every word. “I have the will to ask ‘Why?’ in my conviction of Rachel Berry.”

They’re now standing idle under a tree, picnic baskets placed on the ground, and right then, Quinn is looking so _beautiful_ with her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight that Rachel is unable to form words, too taken to even do anything, and _something_ must show on her face, because the next thing she knows, Quinn is letting out a light chuckle.

“You know, Santana gave me a really long rant about how we were both useless lesbians when I asked her to help plan this date,” the cheerleader brings up. “And we really are.”

“We still managed to find our way here,” Rachel shrugs, voice low and breathless.

“We did,” Quinn agrees, before a soft smile dawns on her porcelain features. “I’m _so_ happy we got to go on this date Rae.”

“Believe me, I’m still in disbelief that this is even happening.” She shakes her head, before she bites down on her lip softly. “You’ve…You’ve been amazing today. Well, you’re amazing _every day_ , but you- you prepared a picnic, cleared out this movie park, and I just- I don’t really know what else to say other than _thank you_ for all of this, for taking a chance on me, because I know that I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and I ramble a lot, just like I’m doing right now, but-”

She’s cut off by Quinn taking a step forward and pressing their lips together, and she lets out a small squeak of surprise – is this even _happening_? – before easing into it as well, kissing back for all she’s worth.

And, can she just say – Quinn Fabray kissing her? Best feeling in the world.

The blonde moves her lips expertly, demanding but yet gentle at the same time, and Rachel has to move her arms to Quinn’s neck to steady herself. Feeling arms wrap around her midsection, a deep-rooted hunger in her _yearns_ for more, and she kisses the girl harder, in a quest to make this as memorable for Quinn as it definitely will be for her.

Even being closed-mouthed, the kiss is pure _electric_ , causing little bursts and shockwaves to erupt from her lips to all the way where her core is throbbing in desire, and Quinn works her _everything_ with a mastery that makes her go weak at the knees, playing her like an instrument.

The kiss might be tame and sweet, but Rachel feels her entire being lit aflame, like she’s simultaneously being broken down only to be built back up stronger again, and it’s as if she’s never been kissed before, her not-even sixteen years of life ceasing to exist like it’s all meant nothing until this pinnacle moment.

She’s kissed Finn and Jesse – _ew, don’t remind me,_ Bi-rry gags in the back of her brain – but she’s never quite felt like _this_ when she was with them, just so out of uncontrol and _needing_ more with an urgent fervor, and practically all the clichés happen, like feeling explosions and starbursts behind her eyelids and her head becoming airy as the air around them seems to crackle with energy.

Quinn kisses in a way that is impossible to forget, tasting like mangoes and vanilla, and when the blonde tilts her head just so, it’s simply _magical_ , the inferno in Rachel’s lower stomach consuming her from within. It _burns_ , so, _so_ good, and she isn’t able to hold in her little gasp of pleasure.

A low and breathless sound that’s rough and deep, she doesn’t think she’s ever heard anything like it come out from her before, and it’s what prompts them to snap back to reality, Quinn finally pulling away reluctantly.

Rachel lets out a small whine from the back of her throat, and their foreheads rest against each other as they pant to regain their breath. She’s face to face with Quinn’s hooded eyes, burning golden and seemingly endless, and the sheer intensity that she sees clouded by lust causes her to clench her thighs together in an attempt to keep herself under control.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, chest heaving. “That was…That was-”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees, her lips curved in a beautiful smile.

It takes a few minutes for them to fully catch their breath (and to reign in their arousal), wrapped up in each other’s arms, and Quinn pulls away slightly, a small smirk on her face. “I can’t believe I’ve rendered Rachel Berry speechless.”

Not even caring about the jab at her, Rachel resists the urge to press her fingers against her tingling lips, looking into Quinn’s eyes with awe. “I can’t believe Quinn Fabray kissed me.”

 _Something_ flickers across the blonde’s face, and then soft lips are being pressed against her own again, before disappearing just as fast. “And she’s kissed you again.”

Not satisfied at all, Rachel feels her chest rumble, and she leans forward, capturing Quinn’s lips with her own. The feelings of giddiness seem no less strong than the first time around, and Rachel feels that pang between her legs again.

It would almost be terrifying, how just a few simple kisses can render her weak and light-headed, but it feels _so damn good_ , and it’s then that Rachel decides that whoever deprived her of Quinn Fabray’s kisses for so long should be in prison or something.

_Well then, I better make up for lost time._

Attacking Quinn’s lips with a fervour, she can tell that the blonde is holding back, as the strong arms around her waist are stubbornly refusing to move, as if Quinn’s afraid she won’t be able to stop herself if she does.

It just makes Rachel kiss the blonde harder, her usually timorous ways being overpowered by her need for Quinn to just let go and kiss her the way Rachel can tell she wants to, and she furiously covers swollen pink lips with her own again and again.

“Rae,” Quinn finally gasps out, tearing her lips away from Rachel’s. “We have to- Shit- We have to stop Rach,” she groans out between kisses, and Rachel pulls away immediately, worry now in her features.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, did I- did I go too fast?”

“Rachel, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Quinn assures her, eyes still dark in a way that makes Rachel’s mouth dry, the moisture all disappearing to… _somewhere_. “It’s just that, I don’t know if I can restrain myself if we do much more.”

“What if I don’t want you to restrain yourself?”

The words flow out of her mouth before she can even fully process herself what she’s saying, and Quinn growls, almost animalistic in its nature.

 _Jesus, are you_ trying _to sound slutty?_

_Excuse me? How am I acting slutty, the nerve-_

_Oi, spare me the rant, aight? I fully approve, at this rate maybe we’ll actually get laid tonight! Honestly, I thought that you would never learn to flirt, I’m like awed right now. Now, drag our tongue over our lips, she_ loooves _it when we do that, yep, just like that – oh, I love it when you cooperate!_

Quinn’s eyes darken even more if it’s even possible, and she grits out, “ _Rachel_.”

“Yeah?” She grins, panting out of breath and totally fine with that.

“The things I want to do to you are _definitely_ not first-date material.”

_Oh fuck fuck fuck yeeeessss._

_Bi-rry!_

_Whaaat? I thought we actually agreed on something!_

_But I don’t want our first time to be in a_ forest _!_

 _Oh please, we both know Quinn’s too much of a romantic to let that happen, but I need at least a little_ something _, aight? Or at the very least, more kisses._

_…That, I can agree on._

_I_ know _, right? Kissing Quinn Fabray is so fucking good, seriously I neeeeed!_

_Oh crap, she’s talking to us again!_

_Even double crap, she’s walking us back to the car and that means no more kisses!_

“-you deserve something special and magical for your first date, and if we go any further…I’m going to end up ravishing you in the forest.”

_Quick, put on our best seductive smile and ask ‘What’s wrong with that?’!_

“Whaa?”

_…Ugh, I should’ve known this phase wouldn’t have last long._

_Shut up, Bi-rry._

_Yeah well, I’ll shut up when we start kissing Quinn and her perfect delicious lips again!_

_Ugh!_

“Come on Rachel, I gotta get you home,” Quinn says, laughing, and Rachel pouts, loving the way her swollen lips are still buzzing with electricity. Quinn shakes her head fondly, before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, pulling away with a slight blush. “There. Happy?”

“ _So_ happy, Quinn Fabray,” she murmurs, smile practically splitting her face in two.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

When Quinn delivers her to her front porch, Rachel sighs, “I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay the night and cuddle with me?”

“Nope,” Quinn grins. “Plus, I’m pretty sure we’ll end up doing something else rather than cuddling, and well…I don’t want Leroy to kill me for possibly defiling his daughter.”

Thoughts of Quinn… _defiling_ her flood her mind instantly, and she bites down on her lip to stave off the feelings of lust. “But I miss my Quinn-cuddles,” she grumbles instead.

“You already got your fill today,” Quinn counters, before a slow smile shows on her lips. “So…Was the date amazing and perfect like you expected?”

“No.” She shakes her head, a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, and when Quinn’s eyes dim, she hurries to add, “You went far and beyond that Quinn. It was…One of the best nights of my life, and I thank you for that.”

Quin hums noncommittedly, but it’s clear she appreciates the words. “Do I get a goodnight kiss then?”

“ _Please_ ,” Rachel practically sighs out, and they share one last kiss, short and sweet, before pulling away.

“I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, a hopeful and breathless tilt to her voice.

“First thing in the morning Berry,” Quinn promises. “Goodnight, my lady.”

And with that, the blonde walks back down the pathway to get in her car, Rachel looking and not budging from her spot as Quinn drives away. A familiar sense of loss rushes through her, the ever-present fear that this goodbye could mean goodbye forever, and even though she knows it isn’t, it still feels like a dream waiting to end.

It’s almost like a call-back to that first night when Quinn tutored her, and it’s that reminder that has Rachel remembering that this isn’t just a dream, that this is all _real_ and better than before. This time instead of just smelling the scent of mango and vanilla, she can actually _taste_ it on her lips, a fleeting aftertaste that has her hopeful for more.

She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie at me, being so witty and doing a throwback to chapter 2 lol. But it’s nice to see how my writing’s evolved, going from doing the laziest ‘they spend the next few days in a nonstop conversation’ to actually taking the time to flesh things out. Thank you all for all the follows/reviews as always, and I’ll see you guys next week :D


	15. VI. Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where I scrape it together at 2am while on 3 hours of sleep but who cares because they're just too friggin adorable together

**VI.**

 

_“Baby,” she pleads, as soft lips ghost by her ear. “I need you so,_ so _badly, I can’t take it anymore.”_

_“Mm,” her lover hums, lips moving to trail alongside her jaw, and when Rachel turns her head to claim those full, plump lips, they’re gone in a flash. She lets out a whimper, and a husky laugh sounds out. “Rae, you’re not going to get your reward that easily,” the low voice of her dream lover purrs. “You have to_ earn it _.”_

_“Fuck Quinn,_ please _!” she practically sobs out in frustration, her core throbbing as her entire body_ aches _with a need. From where’s she at on top of her, Quinn lets out a growl, guttural and rough._

_“Say my name Rachel,” the blonde orders, eyes ablaze as her hands work fervently. “Scream it.”_

_Rachel very eagerly obliges as Quinn attacks her neck, and then she’s groaning out, “Please Quinn, I need you, I need- I need-”_

_“What you do need Rae,” Quinn husks, voice demanding in all the best ways possible. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it all to you.”_

_“I- I need to you touch me,” she moans as Quinn reaches a hand up to knead at her breast. “I need you to make love to me, and then fuck me hard baby.”_

_Quinn lets out a grunt, and then, “As you wish.”_

_With that, Quinn’s hands finally,_ finally _, snake to where Rachel wants them the most, and right then-_

Her phone goes off.

Waking up with her core pounding and blood rushing, she lets out a groan.

_Fuuuccckkkk, who interrupted our niceass dream, I swear, I’mma cut a bitch!_

_It’s probably Kurt, but god, I completely agree with you. That dream was just getting started too!_

_…wait, you’re actually_ not _protesting against our sex dreams anymore? Oh, I thought this day would never come!_

_No! I mean- Well…It’s not like we can stop our dreams, so…might as well enjoy them. That doesn’t mean I’m still letting us fantasize in daylight though!_

_Pftt, you never stop us from fantasizing, you just like making us more repressed. Huh…Ohmygod, are you actually doing this to wind us up so that when we finally get our cherry popped by Quinn it’ll be like, the best thing ever? Damn bitch, never thought you had it in you!_

_Bi-rry, I can’t believe you would think that, of course not! I’m offended you would-_

_Ugh, you know what? Back to killing Kurt, at least he didn’t interrupt the schoolgirl dream. Mmm, do I love that dream. But honestly, I thought he already got every single detail he needed yesterday!_

_Well, he_ did _keep us up until 2am to spill everything._

_I know we have a school holiday today, but sheesh, you’d think that that boy would have a_ life _by now!_

_Be nice!_

You’re _the one who’s still not letting us masturbate, so this is what you have to deal with, dammit!_

_Gah, what part of first date experience do you not understand!_

_And what part of mind-blowing orgasm do you not understand!_

_Serio- I can’t- Ugh!_

Not even bothering to check the caller ID, she slams the phone to her ear and grunts, “Whaaaat?”

Expecting Kurt’s girlish squeal to fill the air, she’s entirely not prepared for Quinn Fabray’s dry dusk. “Well, I see that you’re definitely grumpy today,” the blonde laughs, before teasing, “I know that not waking up to me is hard, but like, maybe try yoga a bit. Might help with the anger issues.”

Rachel doesn’t even have words, mouth gaping open. Neck flushed, she feels her cheeks heat up with mortification, and Quinn’s voice rings out again. “Uh, Rachel? You still here?”

“I’m here!” she yelps out, and when Quinn chuckles at her, she blushes even harder. “No, I mean- I- I thought you were Kurt.”

“Let me guess, he forced all of the details out of you after our date?” Quinn asks, a slight laugh to her voice, and Rachel feels her heart quicken at the reminder that yesterday was actually _real_. “Santana did too, the bitch, kept calling until I had to answer.”

Rachel lets out a giggle, relaxing again, because nothing about her and Quinn’s dynamic has really changed. It occurs to her that they’ve always been… _more_ , so it’s not that different from what they were doing before, and she loves that their interaction always comes so easily. “Well, she’s your best friend, so of course she would want to know everything.”

From the other end of the line, Quinn lets out a snort. “Oh please, she just called in to remind me of how many favours I owe her after she helped with the date-planning. And _you’re_ my best friend.”

Unable to keep the smile off her face, Rachel grins widely. “But I’m more than that, so it doesn’t really count.”

The words just come out of her mouth before she has a chance to really think about them, and a hitch of breath is heard from the other side of the line.

Rachel’s eyes widen as she realizes what she had said, and biting down on her lip anxiously, she hurries to add, “I’m sorry, I just- I didn’t mean to assume, I just thought- I just thought that yesterday wouldn’t be just a one-time thing.”

Before her heart can sink any further with her mind now overthinking and worrying about everything, Quinn is assuring her, “Rachel, you’re _definitely_ more than my best friend.” At the sincere and almost ‘duh’ tone that the blonde says it with, Rachel feels her stomach do a little toss at the words. “Yesterday was one of the best nights of my life. I- I don’t want it to be a one-time thing _at all_. I mean, if- if you don’t want it to either.”

“Trust me, I don’t want it to,” Rachel rushes to say, and she blushes at how willing her voice is. “Our date was _wonderful_ Quinn, I don’t think I can stress that enough.” Hesitating for a second, she continues, “You…You were so amazing last night, planning out something so well thought-out and sweet, and I- I really want to show you how much it meant to me by doing something in return.”

A plan starts formulating in her mind, and a slow beam stretches on her face as she hears Quinn say that she doesn’t have to do anything in return. “Fabray, I’m doing something for you no matter what, stop trying to prolong the inevitable,” she cuts her off, mind already reeling with her schemes.

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Quinn’s wry voice drawls. “I’m just _waiting_ for a cat calendar or two.”

“ _Quinn_ ,” Rachel whines, pouting. “Stop being mean.”

“You still like me anyway,” Quinn points out, clearly pleased.

“Well of course I do, you’re _you_ ,” Rachel smiles a little bashful grin. “Now, before you leave me to my machinations, tell me a line of poetry or ten.”

“So needy Berry,” Quinn laughs.

“And yet you still like me anyway,” Rachel counters, repeating the blonde’s earlier words, and the giddy feeling that erupts in her chest is nothing short of an adrenaline high, breathing _life_ into her. Quinn Fabray likes her, and she had went on an absolutely perfect date with said girl yesterday, and even after so many hours of processing, she still wants to let out a high-pitched squeal at the thought.

“I do,” Quinn hums, her tone of voice telling her that the blonde is smiling brightly, and that just makes Rachel’s heart skip even faster, at the fact that she knows Quinn so well that she can actually tell if the girl is smiling or not through her voice. “I like you _very_ much indeed.”

“But you still didn’t sleep over and cuddle with me last night,” she pouts.

A growl emits from Quinn, low and dark, and Rachel feels her lower stomach start to churn. “Because I probably would’ve defiled you if I didn’t leave.”

_Fuck_ , she thinks, biting down on her lip hard to keep her whimper in, and she swallows. A few simple words from Quinn can already get her going, entire body shaking with an urgent and primal need, and really, it should probably scare her that her body reacts to Quinn this strongly.

It _did_ actually, in the beginning, when she was still afraid of getting herself caught up in another storm that she couldn’t weather. But now, she’s made it to the eye of the storm, and it’s a rush that she wants to feel for the rest of her life.

“Sorry,” Quinn quickly apologizes, mistaking Rachel’s silence for discomfort and sounding like she’s blushing on the other side of the line. “I just- You’re-” A strangled and choked sound makes its way out of the back of Quinn’s throat, and Rachel squeezes her thighs together even closer. “You’re just so _irresistible_ , and I can’t- I couldn’t pull away from your orbit even if I tried Rae.”

The last part is said with a small laugh, and Rachel’s breath catches. “You- You find me irresistible?”

Quinn lets out a small breath, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “You’re a _star_ Rachel, and I’m just one of the many moons that got drawn into your orbit.”

Rachel’s next words are soft in its confession. “But you’re the only one I shine on.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how it works Rae,” Quinn says, and this time, she succeeds even less in masking her insecurities.

“Well then, think of it this way,” Rachel swallows, throat suddenly feeling dry. Still, she’s urged on by a need to assure Quinn that really, Rachel’s the lucky one, and she closes her eyes, resting her head back on her pillow. “Stars are lonely. Sure, they have a strong gravitational pull, but sometimes…it’s just too strong, and the asteroids that get lured in can’t take it anymore. They either crash into the star and destroy it, or they burst into little jagged fragments that form a ring around the star. Sure, the ring will shield the star from further damage for a while, but eventually, the fragments will crash onto the star all the same.”

It’s clear she’s referencing Finn and her strong personality chasing him away, and thoughts of Jesse and his equally as strong personality hit her, making the gulp in her throat even more pronounced as she continues, the original purpose of her speech seemingly forgotten. “Other times, the moons have their own gravitational pulls that overwhelm the star’s, and they leave the orbit, destabilizing the star, and both ways…it hurts.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath heard from Quinn’s end, and Rachel bites her lip, knowing that the blonde definitely knows what she’s talking about. “No- Rachel-” Quinn sounds out, as if she’s grasping for words to say.

“But that’s because their own gravitational pulls are either too strong or too weak,” she finally says, quiet, and Rachel can tell that this is tying into the blonde’s own fears as well, as her voice is flickering, like it always does when she’s trying to detach herself. “You’re a shining star, and it’s not on you that they can’t keep up and hold their ground, or that they deem themselves too important and leave. Stars deserve moons that balance them out, that revolve around them and give them the attention and protection they deserve, because…”

Quinn goes silent here, clearly hesitating to decide if she should continue to not, and Rachel’s grip tightens on her phone. “Because what?” she asks, in a soft whisper as she holds her breath, chest tight.

The blonde on the other side of the phone exhales, her next words a resigned sigh. “Because asteroids don’t shine on their own. Without their stars to shine on them, they’re…simply useless. Barren and dark.”

“They’re not useless Quinn,” Rachel immediately counters, hating the self-deprecating tone that Quinn’s using, and the inherent urge to assure the blonde kicks back in with a fervour. “Don’t you remember what I said about moons that leave? They destabilize the star, because moons help moderate the star’s axis and cause tides. Without them, the star’s climate would change drastically, and the star would become colder and darker.”

Quinn still doesn’t seem to feel better, and Rachel tries to lighten up the mood with as she jokes, “And I thought you knew that a few moons have atmospheres and hidden oceans, so not barren after all, huh miss 4.0 GPA? You’ve been slacking off.”

A reply doesn’t come through the phone for a long while, with the silence becoming more and more stifling with each beat that passes, and Rachel’s almost afraid that Quinn’s hung up on her for a moment.

“ _You’re_ the one who needs tutoring Berry, not me,” Quinn retorts finally, the teasing tone only a bit forced. “Plus, I was just thinking that this metaphor was stupid. I mean, they’re going to be consumed by a black hole or red giant eventually anyway.”

“But at least they’ll go together, and the time they’ll have spent together by then will have been marvelous,” Rachel breathes out, chest feeling that little bit lighter now.

Quinn lets out a soft laugh. “My my Rachel Berry, is that a masochist tone I detect in there?” she drawls, voice finally rid of that sad note it previously had. “Never took you for one, but it’s nice to know that you like a little pain to go along with your pleasure. I’ll definitely keep that in mind, at least.”

The obvious innuendo makes Rachel blush, and she tries to keep herself straight-headed in the midst of all the images of Quinn utterly dominating her flooding her brain now.

_Pfffttt, you were never straight at all._

_Hush!_

_Yeah, yeah, I’ll go back to enjoying those fantasies of Quinn sp-_

_Ohmygod Bi-rry, stop!_

_Ugh, it’s our own thoughts and brain! God knows, we know, the fake audience in our head know, and…maybe Quinn knows, and that’s it, what’s stopping us from doing it dammit?_

_…Wait,_ Quinn _knows?_

_Literally all we do all day is stare at her like we want to eat her, how would she_ not _?_

_What? But- But-_

_Uh huh, you want to go dig yourself a hole and die in, like you always do. Honestly I thought we were over this oblivious phase, but I guess I’ll have to run you through this a couple hundred more times before it gets through. God, and I thought_ Finn _was bad, sheesh. Quinn finds us_ hot _, aight, and I’m pretty sure she’ll find our fantasies even hotter, so like, what’s the harm?_

_I refuse- I refuse to objectify her, okay? So- So stop making things up!_

_Oh, for fuck’s sake- Rachel, sweetie, try going up to her and whispering in her ear that office dream we had a couple days ago. I bet she’ll growl and ravish us good, I’m already having mini-orgasms thinking about it!_

_What- Bi-rry- Oh my- I can’t-_

_Yeah, imagining Quinn in a power suit is so hot, I’d be her secretary_ anytime _, if you catch my drift._

_…_

_Rachel, go back and actually listen to what Quinn is spouting._

_Oh, right!_

“Uh, Rae?” Quinn’s voice rings out, amused and fond. “Earth to Rachel?”

“Quinn!” she squeaks, voice cracking in its pitch, before she sheepishly repeats, toned down in its volume, “Quinn, I’m here, yes.”

“Mm, that’s good, yes,” the blonde teases, and Rachel flushes even more.

“You’re being mean again,” she whines.

“You’re pouting right now, aren’t you?”

Instantly retracting her jutted out lip, she purses her lips together. “…No?”

Quinn lets out a laugh. “Oh, you’re just so _precious_ , Rachel Berry.”

“…That’s a good thing, right?” She doesn’t even bother to mask the hopefulness in her tone.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing.” Quinn trails off here, like she’s thinking. “…Because our gravitational pulls _fit_ , you know? They’re perfectly balanced.”

“As all things should be?”

There’s a beat, and then an awed, “Did you just make a nerd reference?”

“ _Quinn_ ,” Rachel complains, and the blonde laughs again.

“Oh you’re growing up!” she exclaims. “Next thing I know you’ll be storming Area 51 with all the Karens and Naruto runners.”

Rachel makes a little disgruntled sound from the back of her throat, but she’s smiling unabashedly. “Well, I learned from the best,” she hums, before her voice turns soft. “But…we do fit, don’t we?”

“We do. I’d revolve around you for forever if I could,” Quinn admits. “If…If you’d let me, of course.”

“Trust me Quinn, you’ll be trapped in my orbit forever if I have anything to do about it.”

“Wow, obsessed much?” Quinn teases good-naturedly. “I know you’d like a piece of this ass, but I never thought that you’d be a potential serial killer. Should I be alarmed?”

“Oh definitely,” she snorts in reply. “Would a golden star as my calling card be too obvious?”

“Huh, now I’m really interested,” Quinn laughs. “Would I find myself dead and strung up one day?”

“Of course not,” Rachel waves away. “All of my _art_ would be for you anyway.”

There’s a beat, and then, “…That might just be one of the most simultaneously disturbing and yet cheesy things I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t see _me_ making fun of your poetry,” Rachel huffs, and it’s funny, how she seems to miss Quinn so much already. They’ve been talking on the phone for almost half an hour, but her body _aches_ for Quinn to be next to her, to able to be in _some_ form of physical contact.

There’s something about that that makes her heartbeat quicken, but then Quinn is retorting, “Yeah, but that’s because you love my poetry.”

“Poetry that is possible because of your _muse_ , Quinn,” Rachel reminds, shoving those thoughts from before to the back of her mind for now. “Wouldn’t want to anger her now, would we?”

“Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want to anger Santana,” Quinn agrees, trying to stifle her laughter when an indignant sound makes its way out of Rachel’s throat. “Mm, her bitchy remarks fuel my words so much you know.”

Rachel doesn’t reply at that, a sudden insecurity creeping up at her everywhere, and then Quinn is sighing. “…You still don’t believe that you’re the only one I want?”

The blonde’s guilt is clear even though Rachel can’t see her, and she mumbles, “I’m sorry…”

“What? No- I- Rachel, _never_ apologize for that, okay? I just- I-” Quinn’s tortured voice makes Rachel’s heart pang, but then she’s singing, “ _When I hear you sing, it gets hard to breathe, can't help but think every song’s about me, and every line, every word that I write, you are the muse in the back of my mind_.”

Rachel feels her chest fill with warmth, and then she’s reminded of her earlier idea, making a beaming smile appear onto her face as she absently notes, “You are aware that _Why_ is a sad song right?”

“Eh, Shawn’s making out with Camila all the damn time now anyway, I’d say that he got the girl in the end.”

“Just like you did,” Rachel points out, her happy grin turning bashful.

“And I’ll forever be grateful for that,” Quinn says, in a tone that’s almost soft in its confession.

Right then, the urge to claim Quinn as her _girlfriend_ becomes all the stronger, and mind expanding upon her plans quickly, Rachel asks, “You’re free for the rest of the day right?”

“Let me guess, you want more cuddles?”

“Something like that.”

Rachel can practically imagine Quinn arching a (very sexy) eyebrow. “You’re planning something.”

“Something like that.”

“ _Rachel_ ,” Quinn growls, impatient for details.

“Call this payback for all the times you’ve made me wait for things,” she chuckles. “It’ll be good. Promise.”

“If you actually get me a cat calendar I won’t be amused,” Quinn sighs. “…But I’ll put it up on my locker if it makes you happy anyway.”

Her heart warms at that, but then the reality of what’s going to happen when school resumes tomorrow hits her, and she asks, “Quinn…When- When we go back to school tomorrow, what’s going to happen?”

There’s a silence for a beat, and then Quinn’s letting out a breath. “Rachel, I’m not- I’m not going to try to hide us, if there does turn out to be a _us_ , since I know that we haven’t really- really made things…you know,” Quinn finally says, after a moment. “I know my track record isn’t great, but- but I’m not that kind of person anymore Rae, I’m _not_.”

“…But you need more time,” Rachel finishes for her.

“I- I’m sorry,” Quinn apologizes, gut-wrenching in its tone. “I just need- Just give me a few weeks, _please_.”

Quinn’s voice tugs at Rachel’s heartstrings, and she sighs, “Quinn, you don’t have to apologize. It wouldn’t be fair to give you an ultimatum, especially when we haven’t- haven’t made things _official_. A few weeks for me to process things wouldn’t hurt either, and plus, it’s not like we can’t be affectionate at school.”

“Guess that’s one good thing to come out of all our dating-but-not-really from before,” Quinn tries to make light of things, and Rachel hums.

“That’s true, yes.” A beat passes, and then she’s continuing, “So…keep your schedule open today, and don’t go hanging out with any potential girlfriends?”

“ _You’re_ shoo-in for girlfriend, so wouldn’t that make you ineligible to come over later today and do whatever it is that you’re planning?”

“Potential girlfriends that might steal you away from me,” Rachel amends, heart pounding. “And, shoo-in, huh?”

“If she so wishes,” Quinn hums, voiced laced with a giddiness that Rachel feels reverberate throughout her body. “Now, go plan whatever crazy plan you’re scheming. It’s 7am in the morning, I want to go back to sleep.”

“Well _I’m_ not the one who told you to wake up so early.”

Quinn snorts, “Yeah right. Your insistence to wake up at 6am even on Saturdays during our sleepovers has started to rub off of me. Even _Sylvester_ gives us afternoon practices on the weekends usually.”

“That was just the first few times!” Rachel defends, pouting even though she knows Quinn can’t see it. “And you’ve drilled it into me that I wake up at least after 9am now on Saturdays anyway.”

It’s that reminder of their sleepovers and their actual adapted _schedule_ that has Rachel beaming once more, and she bites down on her lip to keep in her excitement. “But yeah, I have to go now,” she says, already missing Quinn’s company. “…I don’t want to hang up though.”

“I don’t want to either,” Quinn freely admits, and Rachel lets out a laugh, making the blonde voice out, “We’re going to be one of _those_ couples, aren’t we?”

“Probably,” she agrees, chest filled with giddiness at the word couple. “But is there really anything wrong with that?”

“Not at all,” the blonde on the opposite end of the line replies, and the sheer _emotion_ Rachel hears in Quinn’s voice makes her heart pang with longing once more, to have the girl actually be next to her.

Physical touch is one of her love languages, and the fact that she can’t reach out and touch Quinn or _something_ has her chest clenching, aching with an urge to be able to do so. It’s why when she speaks, she can’t quite mask her restlessness. “Because we fit.”

It’s more of a question than a statement, and Quinn tries to joke, “More like because our gravitational pulls are too stubborn and so we’re locked for life, but yeah, that works too.”

“We’re just stubborn enough, then.” Rachel shrugs.

“We are,” Quinn hums, before, “God, is it weird that I miss you even on the phone?”

“Quinn, I’m quite sure that if you know the extent of which I’m longing for your physical presence right now, you would run away screaming,” Rachel uses her ‘for-your-information’ tone to inform, hoping to mask her tumorous feelings from the observant blonde. “So, not so weird after all?”

“Which translates to ‘we’re both hopeless sappy idiots’, gotcha,” Quinn translates dryly, then letting out a loose chuckle. “…Yeah, we’re going to be one of those couples.”

Rachel’s mood certainly doesn’t lift with that, and she stays silent for a couple seconds, pressing her lips together. Quinn notices that something’s wrong, and in a soft voice, says, “Rachel, I wouldn’t have it any other way, you know that right?”

Instead of directly replying, Rachel sighs, “Yeah, I wouldn’t have it any other way either.” She huffs out a breath, before laughing humorlessly. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess, I just- I miss you so _much_ right now, and I- I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

“Rae, you’re talking to the queen of being a mess, you’re completely fine. And…I don’t really know what to do with myself either,” Quinn admits in return. “I thought that I had it all figured out during the Summer, but…now that I’m actually experiencing this, it all feels so _surreal_ , and I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here, but my point is, maybe we could figure this all out…together?”

Swallowing, Rachel exhales, her chest feeling that little bit lighter. “Yeah,” she breathes out. “Together. That sounds nice.”

“It is,” Quinn agrees. “I think we’ve both been alone for too long.”

“But we have each other now,” Rachel says, a breathless laugh escaping her lips, and the certainty that she’s able to speak those words surprises even herself.

“And I’ll never let you go,” Quinn vows, a solemn oath, and it makes Rachel’s chest expand with warmth, airy and lighting up her mood.

“Even if you let go, I’d probably still chase after you like a loss puppy like I did with Finn,” she sniggers. “You’re in this for life Fabray.”

“Ew, don’t remind me of that.” Quinn makes a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, and Rachel can just picture the blonde scrunching up her nose cutely, in a clarity that tells her that she probably spends too much time fixating on the girl’s face. “…Though, I have to admit that that imagery is insanely cute.”

She feels her heart quicken at that – Quinn Fabray finds her _cute_! – and teases instead, “Of what? Me chasing Finn around?”

“ _Rachel_ ,” Quinn growls, and she has to restrain herself from clenching her thighs together.

“Yes?” she asks, making sure to put on her innocent voice.

“Stop talking about Finn Hudson,” the blonde grunts, and Rachel’s pretty sure she detects a hint of a pout in her tone. “You’re _mine_ now, and I’m never letting that jolly-green-giant and his grubby oversized paws near you again.”

“Well, that’s a little mean,” she giggles, trying to stave off the wave of heat that rolls through her at Quinn’s possessiveness.

The blonde grunts, “Did I ever claim to be otherwise?”

“You’re like the lion Quinn,” Rachel shrugs, grin wide.

“Huh, so that means everything the light touches is mine right?” Quinn says, and Rachel can just _hear_ the Cheerio’s smirk. “Including you.”

“I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” The words come out of her before she can even realize it, and she blushes.

“So, forever, then,” Quinn chuckles. “I’m keeping you all for myself forever Berry, no take-backs.”

Rachel snorts, “Like I’d ever want to.” She takes a few seconds to soak up the silence, comforted with the knowledge that even though Quinn isn’t there physically, she’s still there on the other side of the phone, and she sighs regrettably, not wanting their time to end just yet. “Now, I really got to go freshen up and plan out my big romantic gesture.”

“…Can’t we just stay on the phone forever?” Quinn says, in a bit of a whine. “I wanna keep talking to you.”

“Well, unless you want to join me in the shower-” Her mouth gapes open as she realizes what she had said, cheeks burning up. “…Fuck.”

Quinn laughs outright. “I’d be happy to do both those things miss Berry, but I’m pretty sure chivalry isn’t dead yet,” she drawls, clearly amused, and Rachel feels her face flare up even more. “Now go shower Rae. I miss you already.”

“I miss you already too,” Rachel sighs out, but it’s with the thought that she’s actually doing this, actually attempting to pursue a relationship with Quinn, that fills her heart of anticipation and giddiness once more. “I feel like I need to hang up first, or we’ll never get off the phone.”

“That _is_ a very probable situation.”

“But I don’t wanna hang up first,” she whines, pouting.

“Well, guess my voice is going to be joining you in the shower then,” Quinn says, a bit of a flippant yet suggestive tone to her voice, and it’s clear that she’s suppressing a laugh.

When Rachel finds that she actually wouldn’t mind that at all (in fact, she actually wants the blonde to be with her in the shower _physically_ ), she flushes even more and mumbles, “I’m hanging up now, see you in a bit.”

Quinn evidently knows where her mind just went, and Rachel can practically hear her smirk as she purrs, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, I’ll see you later baby.”

It’s when Rachel finally presses down at the end call button that it occurs to her. _Baby_.

…Holy mother of Barbra, Quinn Fabray called her baby!

_I feel you hyperventilating from here._

_Well, can you blame me? Quinn called us_ baby _, I think I’m about to pass out!_

_…You make a good point. Ugh, just imagine her moaning that out as we-_

_Bi-rry!_

_Whaaat? It happens all the time in our fantasies anyway!_

_But now that we’ve actually heard her call us that, it seems so much more_ real _, and- Oh my god!_

_…What now?_

_What if- What if she didn’t mean to call us that? What if she slipped up and was just trying to get off the phone faster? Oh no, I don’t think I can continue my life without hearing her call us that at least four-hundred and twenty four more times, and then some more!_

_Oh my- Berry, are you_ actually _thinking that? Bitch, we’re finally getting our happy ending, stop overthinking and_ enjoy _it, yeah?_

_But- But-_

_No buts. Well, unless it’s Quinn’s butt. Then by all means. So round and full, I can’t wait till the day we’ll finally get to-_

_Bi-rry, I thought I told you to stop doing that!_

_Pffttt, like hell am I gonna listen. Fantasizing about Quinn is so- ahhh, that feels nice…But then again, the real thing would be much better, so…get moving Berry, we have work to do!_

_But- But what if she doesn’t like our plan, and-_

_Ugh, have you literally forgotten who we are? We’re_ Rachel Berry _, and if it’s the only thing about us, it’s that we’re ridiculously tenacious in our pursuing of what we want._

_And…what we want is for Quinn to be our girlfriend._

_Correct._

_…And also, I just really,_ really _want Quinn to call us baby again._

_…Eh, also correct, I’ll give you that at least._

_Okay. I’m Rachel Berry. I get what I want. And what I want is Quinn Fabray as my girlfriend, so I’m going to get her._

_Atta girl._

“Oh my god there’s totally not enough time for me to put together a cohesive soundtrack!”

Bi-rry groans in the back of her mind.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Taking in a breath, she grips the strap of her bag tighter against her shoulder, and she tries her best to steady her breathing.

The weight of the journals Rachel had finally finished reading a few nights ago almost seems comforting against her back, like she has Quinn’s words to draw her strength from, and she feels her heart tighten at the memory of reading the heart-wrenching books.

Getting through one without crying for the blonde was already hard enough, reading about how terrible things were for her even before high school started, but in those journals, she had also read about Quinn’s incredible willpower, and it’s in that that she hopes she can lend from.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she lets down the stereo player she’s holding in her other hand to the ground. Faced with the door to a now very familiar house, she rings the doorbell with an almost shaky hand, scolding her anxiously beating heart.

Rachel Berry does _not_ get nervous before she’s about to perform, because she’s going to own it every single goddamn time, and she knows it.

After Quinn had that panic attack a while back, Judy had asked if it was alright to add Rachel’s fingerprint to the front door, along with giving her the keycode, just in case if Quinn was in trouble and Judy couldn’t be there in time.

Rachel had agreed with a blush on her face of course, but she had sworn that she would never use it unless it was an emergency, to Quinn’s eye-roll. ‘Rach, trust me, this is more about my not wanting to get up and open the front door than Mom pawning me off of you, you don’t have to take this this seriously.’

A small part of her wants to just go in and surprise Quinn, ( _and maybe find her in a towel right after showering,_ Bi-rry adds,) but she can’t stomp down that reminder of her anxiety, the part that’s more worried about Quinn not liking this than her singing.

But before she can dwell on it any further, she hears the door unlock, and she exhales, turning on her stereo player that was already set beforehand to play in five seconds. _Show time._

The moment Quinn opens the door with a curious and rather eager face, Rachel feels her heart skip at seeing the blonde once more, the barely fifteen hours that had passed since she last saw her already feeling like too long, but even with her heart almost seeming to skip out of her chest, she forces herself to stay calm.

The instrumental of her mashup kicks in, and she readies herself to sing.

Music is the one constant in her life, and she’ll be damned if she messes this one up.

_Look at the stars_  
_Look how they shine for you_  
_And everything you do_  
_Yeah, they were all yellow_  


__

Quinn stands still in place, her face frozen, and Rachel feels those insecurities pop up even more, but she pushes that all away for the time being, content to pour her heart out and let all her pent up emotions into her song.

_So then I took my turn_  
_Oh, what a thing to have done_  
_And it was all yellow_

Finally, Quinn seems to snap out of her trance, her previously blank face morphing into a dopey smile, and along with the relief that Rachel feels bubble up in her chest, she feels her own lips stretch into a beam as she continues to serenade her blonde.

_If you can hold the stars in place_  
_You can hold my heart the same_ __  
_Whenever I fall away_  
_Whenever I start to break_

_So open your eyes and see_  
_The way our horizons meet_ __  
_And all of the lights will lead_  
_Into the night with me_

She keeps her voice purposely soft, unlike her usual belting, and she can’t even force herself to move or do any of the choreography she had planned, too thrown into her song. This is what Quinn makes her feel, _everything_ at once, and it makes her head airy.

_So here I am, lifting up my heart_  
_To the one who holds the stars_

_Cause your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones_  
_Turn into something beautiful_ __  
_And you know_ __  
_For you, I’d bleed myself dry_  
_For you, I’d bleed myself dry_

It really shouldn’t surprise her that she means every single word, so when she finds hazel eyes shining back at her with something that’s just absolute adoration and more, she’s completely at peace with that.

Before, with Finn and Jesse, it almost seemed like an infinite uphill battle, just struggling and trying to fight against her emotions, but with Quinn, it’s nothing like that.

Quinn makes her feel all sorts of things, but they feel _natural_ , like there’s no other option, and she just has to _be_ , without anything else, because being with Quinn is just freeing in all ways, a head rush that will never stop.

As the music flows on, she feels her heart warm at the realization that this is what she wants to do for the rest of her life. Not singing, but singing _for_ Quinn, because Quinn is her inspiration, and she’d do anything to be able to come home to hazel eyes and a soft genuine smile.

Enraptured in endlessly swirling pools of hazel, she almost forgets her cue to sing the outro, and she barely opens her mouth in time to end the song.

_Look at the stars_  
_Look how they shine for you_  
_And all the things that you do_

“ _You’re the one who holds the stars,_ ” she finishes softly, voice almost a whisper in its reverence, and she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart once more, steadying her breaths.

Freaking out can come after she’s finished this.

Taking in a breath, she steels her nerves. “Quinn,” she starts, her voice almost stumbling shakily upon the syllable. “Will you-” Throat suddenly dry, she cuts herself off as she swallows, a paralyzing fear hitting at her at all once.

It’s then that all of the ‘what-if’s that she’s been suppressing come rushing to the forefront of her mind, and if it’s even possible, her heart thrashes against her chest even harder, thumping loudly in her ears.

Quinn’s staring at her with a curious and slightly concerned look, and Rachel has half a mind of running away and never coming back, but she knows that till now, Quinn has been the one who’s been making all the moves in this- in their _relationship_ , and that’s what finally lifts that terrifying haze in control of her body.

Quinn chose her, for better or for worse, and Rachel never, _ever_ wants the blonde to feel like it’s one sided.

So it’s with that that she finally _breathes_ , telling herself to go with the flow once more, and she speaks her next words with a bravery that surprises herself.

“Quinn, will you be my girlfriend?”

There’s silence for a beat, and for a second, Rachel feels her mind start to churn with all her worries, a mocking laugh echoing in her brain.

But then Quinn is crashing into her, lips seeking her own out, and she forgets what she was insecure about in the first place.

As Quinn’s full pink lips descend upon hers, she thinks, _fuck, it’s been way too long_ , because it hasn’t even been a full day since they had last kissed, but it’s already felt like an eternity to Rachel, and she kisses Quinn back eagerly, a burning desire in her lower stomach.

“Yes,” the blonde mumbles between kisses, guiding them into the house and kicking the door shut. “Yes I’ll be your girlfriend Rae.”

“Oh!” Rachel gasps, bag falling to the floor as Quinn pushes against her, one hand on her neck and the other on her waist. Feeling her back slam against the door, she groans, the feeling of Quinn’s demanding kisses simply divine. “Oh, that’s- that’s good.”

Tangling her fingers into silky golden locks – _god_ she loves Quinn’s hair – she uses her other hand to press against the curve of the blonde’s back, pushing their bodies together closer, and she tries to keep up with Quinn, who’s relentlessly attacking her lips in all the best ways possible.

In the back of her mind, there’s a voice squealing ‘ _Holy crap Quinn Fabray agreed to be our girlfriend!_ ’, but Quinn’s masterful working of her lips is otherwise keeping her occupied at the moment, and when she feels an – oh god – _tongue_ swipe against her lower lip, she can’t stop her hips jerking up a bit to find some contact, some friction, _anything_.

It seems like Quinn knows what will happen if they continue at this rate though, as she’s keeping their lower bodies apart, so she doesn’t meet anything but heated air, but then, Rachel feels an insistent tongue swiping across her lip once more, and she nearly lets out a little moan, the feeling incredible.

Through the haze of being kissed by Quinn like _that_ , she can’t really think straight, but she knows that no matter what, she _so_ desperately wants to feel that again, so she keeps her mouth closed, denying Quinn’s tongue entry.

Letting out a growl, Quinn bites down on her lip, just soft enough for it not to hurt but yet just hard enough to really make Rachel _feel_ it. She’s incompletely unprepared for it, and she let out the moan that she’s been holding in uncontrollably, just _needing_ to let out all of this pent-up pressure _somehow_.

She fully expects Quinn – her _girlfriend_ – to take advantage of her parted lips, but that’s not what happens at all, because the next thing she knows, the Cheerio is pulling away with a groan.

Rachel nearly melts into a pile of frustration on the spot, because _dammit_ , and panting, she whimpers, “ _Quinn_.”

Their bodies are still pressed tight together, overheated as the air burns around them, and Quinn groans, eyes dark and burning gold. “Rae, you can’t just make sounds like that and expect me to hold back.”

_You not holding back and ravishing me is the entire_ point _,_ Rachel very nearly exclaims, the ache between her legs only becoming more pronounced now that she’s not lost in Quinn. Instead, she blurts out, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t, you know, do- do other… _stuff_.”

The fact that she can’t say the words obviously amuses Quinn, and she smirks. “What, like this?”

Rachel doesn’t have any time to react before Quinn is diving in to link their lips together again, and she gasps, a breathy little sound that makes Quinn grunt.

This time, the blonde fully takes advantage of her parted lips, and then Rachel’s tongue is meeting Quinn’s, and it’s simply _unbelievable_ , making little bursts of stars explode behind her eyelids.

But then, it’s gone as abruptly as it had come, and Rachel can’t help the frustrated little mewl that emits from the back of her throat.

“Patience, Rach,” Quinn reminds, laughing, though the dry and husky quality of it isn’t fooling anyone, and the brunette pouts.

At the sight of her swollen lips, Quinn’s eyes darken even more, and a quick kiss is pressed to her lips, making Rachel sigh. “Usually boys are so much more eager,” she grumbles.

“Well, that’s because boys are pigs,” Quinn chuckles, nudging her nose against Rachel’s cheek. “And I want to give you a whirlwind romance Rae, so I repeat, chivalry isn’t dead yet, unfortunately.”

“You know what, I don’t even care,” Rachel breathes out, lips tingling, and they stretch into a slow but beaming smile.

“Oh yeah?” Quinn drawls, a similar grin on her face. “Why is that, miss Berry?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend,” she practically giggles the words out.

“Mm, I am,” her _girlfriend_ agrees, nodding sagely. “And you’re _my_ girlfriend.”

At that, Rachel can’t resist tilting her head to draw the blonde into another bruising kiss, and when she pulls away, it’s with a happy and contented sigh. “You’re _such_ a good kisser, baby.”

The endearment slips from her mouth before she even realizes it, and when Quinn arches a brow of interest, Rachel hesitantly asks, “Is- Is that okay?”

Quinn blinks, and then, her girlfriend – ugh, she _still_ can’t get over how amazingly amazing that sounds – is giving her a languid smile as she counters, “Only if _you’re_ okay with it.”

“Trust me, I am _more_ than okay with it,” Rachel rushes out, breathy and eager, and she laughs. “…I seriously want to go up to a rooftop and scream that Quinn Fabray is my girlfriend now, wow.”

“Pfft, _Rachel Berry_ is my girlfriend now, I think I have more to boast about,” Quinn retorts, with a giddiness that Rachel feels bubbling up inside her own chest in echo as well.

“Cuddle on the couch and watch movies with me?” she asks, and the hopeful tilt to her voice makes Quinn sport a puzzled look.

“That’s what we always do.”

“But you’re my _girlfriend_ now,” Rachel grins, simply addicted to the rush that the words give her, and she thinks that she’ll never tire of it. “And that makes everything one-hundred percent better.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Quinn muses with a dopey curl of her lips, before, “…Crap, we left the stereo player outside.”

Rachel simply giggles and reaches up to kiss Quinn again. The angle is perfect, where she only has to tilt her head up slightly to have bliss occur, and that’s just one more reason why she feels like her chest can’t expand any further with warmth and affection.

Quinn Fabray is her _girlfriend_ now, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Letting out a content purr as she curls herself more into Quinn’s form, she feels her eyes getting droopy, and she lets out a little yawn.

The faded-out chatter of the romcom they’re mindlessly watching lures her to sleep, and she snuggles even closer; honestly, Quinn was way too comfortable to cuddle with for her own good.

“ _Someone’s_ getting sleepy,” her girlfriend – _girlfriend! –_ teases, hand combing through Rachel’s locks soothingly.

“Too comfy,” she sighs out. “’n ’re warm.”

“I’m hot, I’m aware,” Quinn says knowingly, chuckling, and Rachel agrees profusely, but thankfully, she doesn’t blurt it out like she always does with her embarrassing thoughts, simply just humming her sleepy reply.

“By the way, I brought back your journals,” she notes, nodding her head towards her bag where it always is.

From behind her, she feels Quinn tense momentarily, and she blinks away the bleary haze of sleep, knowing just how vulnerable the blonde had made herself by giving up those journals.

Rachel won’t ever have a day go by without reminding the blonde how much she appreciates her, and she turns so that she’s facing the Cheerio, eyes bright.

“Quinn, I’ll never forgive Russell for what he did to you, and I’m _so_ happy that you trusted me enough to share that part of your past, I’ll never be able to express that enough,” she enunciates, forcing Quinn to meet her eyes.

Seeing the conflicting emotions raging in hazels, she pushes on, overcome with an urge to make sure Quinn understands her.

“But what matters is that you’re better now,” she expresses, “That you’re _stronger_ because of those experiences, and I’m so, _so_ proud of you Quinn, for finally being able to grow into yourself and let that old part of you go. Your past is what makes you _you_ , and I will forever be grateful that you let me into your life. Please remember that.”

Quinn doesn’t speak for a few seconds, famed Fabray mask in place, but finally, she says, “…I- I want to give you the rest of the journals later, if you- if you want them. I’m not- I’m not proud of some of them, but…a lot of them are about you, Rae, because…”

The blonde trails off here, looking hesitant, and Rachel tries her best to express her encouragement through her gaze, summoning up all the affection and adoration that she feels and channeling that.

It takes a second, but it works, and Quinn bites down on her lip gently. “Remember about the thing I said about how I’ve liked you since freshman year? I think…I think you can figure the rest out.”

It all clicks into place in Rachel’s mind, confirming her earlier suspicions, and her breath catches. There’s a sharp pang in her heart, and she swallows, suddenly struck with a quick bout of insecurity. “I-I need to hear you say it. Please.”

At the tortured expression that appears on the blonde’s face, Rachel’s suddenly afraid that she’s asked for too much, that she’s pushed too far, as she’s prone to do. She wonders if she’ll blow it like that one day, but then Quinn is nodding slightly, almost in resignation, and that line of dangerous thought is saved for another day, stored away in the back of her mind in favor of focusing on Quinn instead.

“All of the slushies, all of the insults designed to make me feel you were less feminine…They were all because I was afraid of liking a girl,” her girlfriend admits, a croaky whisper, and Rachel bundles closer to her, hoping to at least provide some comfort.

Rachel can tell that that’s all Quinn can do for now, and she’s completely fine with that. _Grateful_ , actually. She tries to work her voice to form some supportive words, but it’s like her vocal cords are seemingly stiff, with her heart oddly moved and hurting at the same time. It’s a strange set of emotions, but she pushes that away for now. “Thank…Thank you for telling me that.”

Quinn simply raises a brow at her, and she lets out a breath, just _needing_ to convey how proud she is of the Cheerio, of how far she’s come in finding herself.

“And that just enforces my earlier point Quinn,” she breathes out, reaching out a hand to enwrap a smooth pale one, their fingers tangling together. “You’ve let that old part of yourself go, and now you’re starting your future. Whether I’m there or not, that’s entirely up to you, but I know that no matter what you choose, you’ll be amazing, because you’re finally accepting yourself. You can be whoever you want, because you’re Quinn Fabray, and we’re all proud of you, which already means _everything_.”

 Quinn’s posture is still rigid by the time Rachel finishes, and she sees the blonde tightly swallow. There’s silence for a few moments, the quiet chatter of the movie in the background almost haunting, and then, Quinn is puffing out a breath.

“…You don’t give yourself enough credit Rae.”

Rachel doesn’t understand, furrowing her brow, and Quinn sighs. “I may be able to craft words using my mind, but you do it with your _heart_ , Rachel, and…and that’s the most _beautiful_ thing of them all.”

She doesn’t have words, simply stunned and caught.

She’s absolutely taken with the absolutely perfectly imperfect person that Quinn Fabray is, Quinn Fabray her _girlfriend_ , and she stares up to delicate features in awe, because how can someone manage words so amazingly and still say that others do it better?

Her mouth simply opens and closes with no sound coming out, but Quinn evidently doesn’t seem to mind though.

It’s obvious that she’s found another use for her mouth, because then, the blonde is leaning down to connect their lips together, and as their lips meet, sparks of magic erupting from her lips to her _everywhere_ , Rachel thinks that _no, that really isn’t the most beautiful thing of them all_.

_This, this right here? This is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal hugs to Vicky and Azbiel for getting me through this chapter, life tm got in the way the past week and everything after the phone call was written today in a hurry lol, like the last 2k. I even considered just giving you guys the phone call, but Kuro cheered (read: forced) me through it, so thank him for the longer chapter :p  
> We did drabble night over at the r/fanfiction discord yesterday though, and it was really fun, since I’ve never tried making things exactly 100 words before. (they're on my tumblr pls come and bug me I need faberry friends)  
> P.S. Please tell me how awesome that metaphor about stars and moons were, thank.


	16. VI. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they make out, have some convos at school, and make out some more

When Rachel wakes from yet _another_ sex dream, she groans, hand mindlessly moving to shut off her alarm clock.

Pushing away her covers with a ferocity that probably is fueled from sexual frustration, she practically stomps her way to the bathroom, determined to ignore the needy ache between her legs.

_Honestly, when are you gonna let us-_

_No, I’m not doing this today dammit!_

_Ooh,_ someone’s _feisty today. The UST is definitely getting to ya, I can feel it._

_You- Oh my- I can’t- Shut up, okay?_

_Hmm, yeah I’m not sure how much I like this mood you’re sporting today._

_Oh fuck off Bi-rry!_

_Yeah, that stick is even more up your ass than usual…Oh, I have an idea! Remind me who’s our girlfriend now?_

At that thought, Rachel ceases her furious face-scrubbing routine immediately, and a slow beam stretches onto her face as she’s reminded of that.

“Quinn Fabray’s my girlfriend,” she quietly giggle-sings to herself, watching her body do a little dance in the mirror.

Ugh _that sounds good!_

 _I_ know _, right? But- I’m still worried about what’s going to happen today at school._

_Yeah, me too. Like how the hell are we supposed to keep from letting Quinn fuck us against the lockers, it’s going to be impossible!_

_…That wasn’t what I meant, but after a bit of thinking, that_ does _seem like a valid concern, yes._

 _Oh yeah there’s that entire ‘Will she pull away’ thing, but pfft who cares about that? What_ I _want to know, is why whatever higher being up there would let us taste Quinn Fabray’s lips but then make us not be able to kiss them every second of the day, it’s simply sadistic!_

_I’m glad we’re in agreement, we really ought to write a strongly-worded letter to them, maybe burning it would get it through?_

_Or, maybe…we could pull Quinn into an empty classroom during study hall and make out there._

_What a wonderful idea, we’re geniuses, I approve of this plan immensely!_

_Ah I love how you’re so cooperative now that we’re Quinn’s girlfriend – it_ stills _sounds like the best thing ever, god! That reminds me, we need to look spanking hot today Berry, I want Quinn to_ drool _._

_You- You really think we can do that?_

_Ha, have you_ seen _how she looks at us? Just wear the shoulderless black dress, fuck-me heels, and her Cheerio jacket, you know how much she adores us in her clothes. Speaking of which, when is Operation Steal Quinn’s Sweatshirt a go, I can’t believe we still haven’t done that yet!_

_Oh we come up with the best ideas, maybe you’re not so bad after all Bi-rry! Maybe that means we won’t have to come up with excuses as to why we forgot to bring clothes to our sleepovers anymore._

_Please, Quinn totally knows that we’re doing it on purpose, with how obvious we are._

_Look, it’s not_ my _fault that she smells so good!_

_Yeah yeah, go clean up now, we have work to do._

_Mm, we’re gonna get Quinn so hot for us she’ll just_ have _to pull us away and ravish us, I can’t wait!_

X-X-X-X-X

 

Walking down the stairs to grab breakfast, as soon as she walks into the kitchen with a pep to her step, Hiram is instantly spinning around with his brow raises, scanning over her attire.

Leaning forward slightly, he furrows his brow. “Excuse me, what is, uh, what is-” He makes a wild gesture towards her clothes. “What is all _that_?”

Rachel flushes, knowing that even with her new wardrobe curtesy of the Unholy Trinity, she usually still stuck with her cardigans and blouses. Trying to think her way out of this no-doubt going to be embarrassing situation, she splutters out, “This is- I mean- It’s nothing, it’s just for- for a Glee club activity!” Nodding to herself, she continues on self-assuredly, “Yes, Mr. Schue is trying to uh- to make us go out of our comfort zone, and- and of course, I decided to-”

“Yeah yeah, you want to look good for your girlfriend, got it,” Hiram translates, going back to munching on his burrito, before his face lights up with an afterthought as he adds, “I mean, I would be too, Quinn is absolutely _gorgeous_ , oh what I wouldn’t do to have her complexion!”

Rachel simply just stammers out more incoherencies, though he pays that little mind. “Just remember to have safe sex, will you? I wouldn’t want to have Leroy dig out the pamphlets on lesbian sex again.”

His face scrunches up at that, and Rachel flushes instantly, red taking over her face. “Daddy!” she astonishes. “I wasn’t- I’m not about to go and- and have _sex_ with Quinn this early in our relationship, what are you thinking? Honestly I should go and-”

“Uh huh, yeah, that’s great,” Hiram waves away, not impressed. “But anyway, I need your opinions on dresses – oh now, don’t look at me like that, I haven’t even told you what kind! Oh fine, I’ll save the wedding dress choices for later.”

It’s then when he starts talking about arranging more dinners with Quinn that Leroy comes in the kitchen, and now beet red, Rachel sighs out in relief. Finally, she’s saved!

“Dad,” she whines. “Daddy is bullying me again!”

Leroy raises a brow at her, picking up his coffee mug, and nonchalant as ever, he asks, “Ah, is he trying to enforce upon you the baby names we have in mind? Believe me, I’ve tried to convince him to ask Quinn’s mom about this first, but you know him, he can’t be stopped. I mean, you _have_ to get your stubbornness _somewhere_.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Hiram pipes in, but by then, Rachel’s already let out a frustrated wail and snatched her breakfast away from the counter to eat elsewhere.

“Hey, hey, no need to be so touchy!” Leroy’s voice follows her out of the kitchen. “At least tell me if Hiram’s given you the dental dams yet!”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

As soon as Rachel rips open the door, she’s crashing into Quinn’s arms, and the blonde has to reach out to steady herself.

“Whoa there Rae,” Quinn laughs softly into her hair. “Good morning to you too. What has you so riled up on this fine morning?”

“My parents are abusing me!” the diva cries out in response, using that as an excuse to nuzzle even closer to Quinn’s warmth. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to come save me!”

“Oh? How unfortunate,” the Cheerio humors her with a chuckle, and Rachel is unable to stop her smile, already feeling lighter in her girlfriend’s – _girlfriend!_ – presence. “Now, tell me why are you so desperately in need of child emergency services today?”

Pulling away slightly, Rachel stays firmly enwrapped in Quinn’s embrace, unwilling to let go of this comfort for now. “They’ve been embarrassing me all morning,” she whines pathetically, loving how Quinn’s hands are rubbing smooth circles at the small of her back. “They even deigned to leave for work later than usual to mortify me more!”

“Aw, poor baby,” Quinn coos solemnly, with an undertone of what’s undoubtedly amusement in her voice. The blonde’s lips curl in a delectable line shortly afterwards, and Rachel feels a roll of lust wash over her at that well familiar smirk. “Is there anything I could do to make it better?”

Quinn’s playful yet seductive drawl hits all the right notes in Rachel’s body, and breathless, she suggests, “Maybe you could, you know…kiss it better.”

“I could,” the blonde agrees, hazel eyes gleaming. “But…your fathers are currently watching us like they’ve been depraved from reality TV for decades, so maybe later.”

Casting a sideways glance, she indeed spots her dads looking at them and giggling like schoolyard children, and when they figure out that she knows they’re there, they quickly try to act blasé, turning to inspect and dust at the nearest furniture.

Letting out a little disgruntled sound from her chest, she grumbles, “Don’t they have better things to do?”

“Apparently not,” Quinn shrugs, and when Rachel tugs them out of the doorway, still keeping their bodies knit tight together, she lets herself be guided out without complaint, only giving her famed eyebrow arch in response.

As the door slams shut behind her, Rachel hears the faint call of “Come by soon again Quinn!” fill her ears, and she narrows her eyes, wondering why she even lets her parents out in public in the first place.

Diverting her attention back to her girlfriend, she sees a quirk of lips, obviously trying to stifle a grin, and she pouts. “Just give me my good morning kiss Fabray.”

“Who said you get one?” Quinn baits, and feeling a small wave of insecurity hit her, Rachel shrinks back a little, suddenly unsure. But then, Quinn’s raising an impatient eyebrow at her, fingers thrumming against her back almost rhythmically. “Well? I’m waiting, Berry.”

Rachel tilts her head slightly in confusion, blinking, and Quinn sounds out, “Rachel, kiss me.”

Oh… _Oh!_

Well then, Rachel is very happy to oblige.

Leaning in and angling her head up, she covers Quinn’s soft pink and oh-so-tempting lips with her own, and she can’t help but let out a little contented sound at the contact, already relishing the feeling.

By all things considered, it’s a chaise kiss, but it still manages to set all her nerve endings aflame, and she tilts her head just so to deepen the kiss, pressing just the slightest tad harder.

The hands now on her waist squeeze gently, and Quinn pulls away, eyes dark as she runs her tongue over her lower lip. Rachel traces the movement with fervor, but before she can have the chance to capture those enticing lips again, Quinn’s half-sternly reminding her, “I’m going to be late for Cheerio’s practice.”

“But we won’t be able to kiss in school and stuff,” Rachel protests, and – oh wow, did she just sound like as much a hormonal teenage boy as she thought she did?

“ _Rachel_ ,” Quinn grits out, dark hazel eyes warning her, and the diva pulls away to cross her arms, jutting her lip out.

It’s then that Quinn finally sees what she’s wearing, and as the blonde’s gaze rakes over her form with appraisal and hunger, Rachel feels herself flush as well, the look on Quinn’s face undoubtedly that of lust.

It’s weird, of how different it feels compared to when the boys at school do the same thing.

…Well, maybe not the exact same, because their eyes are different, she thinks. It’s in the way that they shine.

When someone like Puck does it, it’s with a leering look that makes her feel like a piece of meat, taking her in like they’re looking at her curves instead of _her_ , like she’s nothing more than an object for their fantasies.

When Quinn does it, along with the gleam of hunger and arousal in her beautiful hazels, there’s an utter adoration in there, all-encompassing and like an addictive drug. It makes Rachel feel wanted and desired, because it’s like what Quinn’s seeing is only enhancing what she’s feeling for her inside, not just her primal urges.

It may also be to do with the fact that Quinn Fabray, the most _gorgeous_ human being she’s ever met, finds _her_ attractive that sets off all the sparks in her lower stomach, but then Quinn is quickly stepping forward to give her a breath-stealing and bruising kiss, and all Rachel’s braincells are going right down to her aching core.

It’s a searing and electric moment in time, with all of Quinn’s curves pressing into hers in all the right places, their bodies locked so tight Rachel doesn’t even know where hers end and Quinn’s begin, and she’s absolutely high off the rush of kissing her girlfriend.

Because kissing Quinn is like going home, rediscovering what’s warmth all over again, and she hopes, _prays_ , that it’ll always be like this, a head rush that’ll never stop.

When she’s with Quinn, she’s _happy_.

Just when it starts to become something more heavier, something involving tongues and teeth that she definitely doesn’t want her fathers to witness on their front porch – she’s pretty sure she can hear their happy squeals at their window from here – she finally finds the strength to pull away, panting warm breath against Quinn’s lips.

“What happened to Cheerio practice?” she grins, breathless.

Quinn narrows her eyes at her. “Well, that was before someone decided to wear a certain black dress,” she murmurs, eyes almost a pure black with only a ring of gold surrounding it. “And paired with my Cheerio jacket too. You _know_ what you in my clothes does to me. How do you expect me to keep my hands off of you today when you’re dressed like _that_?”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Rachel coyly remarks, and Quinn’s grip on her waste tightens.

“You’re-” she sounds out, rough and restrained. “You’re _really_ planning on testing me today, aren’t you?”

Now starting to gain confidence, Rachel throws her a flirtatious smile. “Better learn to make use of empty classrooms quick then.”

Closing her eyes as a visible wave of _something_ rolls through her body, Quinn lets out a small rumbling sound from her chest, and Rachel is unable to stop the way her chest swells with pride, because she’s the one who’s doing this, who’s rendering Quinn Fabray like this.

It’s something new, and it’s something that causes an absolute thrill to rush through her veins.

In this moment, she feels _powerful_ , and she finds that she quite likes it.

“Cheerios. Or coach’s gonna kill me,” Quinn finally says, though it’s like she’s trying to convince herself more than anything else.

Continuing on the high of having the Head Cheerio practically under her mercy, Rachel finds herself darting forward to press a kiss on Quinn’s smooth jawline, lingering there. “Wouldn’t it be the best death though?”

Her questioning voice is downright sinful, seductive and low, and she doesn’t think that she’s ever quite heard her voice like that before, a chilling whisper that she visually sees have a lasting effect on Quinn, fingertips flexing at her waist as a warning sign.

But alas, she really wouldn’t wish Sue Sylvester’s wrath on anyone, much less Quinn, (though, she’s pretty sure Quinn would definitely appreciate the massage that she’d very eagerly offer afterwards,) and so, she reluctantly pulls away, but not before planting one last kiss on the blonde’s neck, too addicted by the feeling to contain herself.

Quinn’s skin tastes _amazing_ , and briefly, Rachel wonders what the Cheerio would taste like in _other_ places, and she feels her throat dry at the thought. Her provocative streak evidently has come to an end though, as she shucks back immediately, a burning bright flush on her face as she tries not to pay attention to the images now flashing in her brain, the churn in her lower stomach louder than ever.

Her hasty retreat seems to shake Quinn out of her trance, and as she watches her go with dazed eyes, the blonde mindlessly notes, “The letterman still smells like me.”

Rachel freezes up at the words, and she tries to play it off by joking, “Well, it’s bound to somewhat, considering the staggering amount of time I spend with you.”

_…Because I totally don’t use mango and vanilla scents to wash this jacket with so that it still smells semi-like you, since that would be totally pathetic and stalkerish and just plain weird._

( _Uh huh,_ Bi-rry snickers in the back of her mind. _But speaking of which, we totally need to restock on those. We’re going to run out soon, and you know we’re fidgety without it- Oh wow, okay. We’re_ such _stalkers ha!_ )

Pushing that away for now – but still making a mental note to get more at the store later – Rachel hopes that Quinn doesn’t notice her sheepish and embarrassed demeanor, and thankfully, Quinn’s still in a bit of a haze from before, so she doesn’t ask further.

“You good to go?”

Hefting her bag tighter against her side – she’d opted for a shoulder bag today – she shoots the blonde a small smile, taking the arm offered in with her own. “Yeah, I am,” she exhales, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions at the thought of facing school with Quinn, who’s now her _girlfriend_.

But then, as Quinn sends a beam her way, with one of those genuine and happy smiles that reach her eyes and beyond, Rachel thinks that maybe it won’t be that different after all.

It’ll be _better_.

“I’m really good, actually,” she says, a light feeling in her chest that’s everything all at once. “I’m…I’m perfect.”

“ _Someone_ has gotten a big ego,” Quinn teases as she leads them to her car, stopping to open the door for the brunette, and Rachel blushes sheepishly, just realizing the double meaning of her words. “But…You are. Perfect, I mean. You’re…You’re just perfect.”

At the tender look Quinn gives her, Rachel can’t help but stop right where she is to look at her girlfriend in bewilderment, one foot already planted in the car, and if anything, hazel eyes shine with admiration and _devotion_ even more, causing her heart to skip a few beats.

The edge of Quinn’s lips curl, with that soft edge that Rachel’s only really ever seen aimed at _her_ , and before she can even begin to process that, Quinn’s already leaned forward to give her a quick kiss, almost as if she’s sealing a deal of some sort.

“Now get in the car Berry,” the cheerleader laughs, full and bright. “Or else either Sylvester or your dad is going to kill me.”

Blinking, Rachel breaks out of her reverie, and she slides into the passenger seat with a snort. “Oh please, Coach Sylvester would never let go of her prized Head Cheerio, and really, are you still on that your-dad-hates-me kick?”

“Your dad has a _shotgun_ , ready to shoot at me the moment he thinks I’m defiling his baby girl or whatever!” Quinn defends, slamming the car door shut as she gets into the driver’s seat, and her indignant expression makes Rachel giggle.

“Quinn,” she states, an almost-scoff in her tone. “Just _look_ over there.”

Pointing to the windows, Quinn follows her line of sight, and the sight of her nosey parents greets them, trying to look covert and very obviously failing.

Leroy at least has the good decency to back away sheepishly, but of course, Hiram, as shameless as he is, just continues to meet their gazes unabashedly, and he waves with a giant smile on his face, yelling, “Girls, if you two plan on rambunctiously propagating later, remember to use the appropriate safety measures! Rachel, you do have those de-”

“Daddy!” Rachel astonishes, trying to stomp her foot even in the car, and Quinn winces next to her due to the sheer volume of her voice, making her flush apologetically as Hiram finally retreats.

“I am _so_ sorry about my parents – or well, just my daddy as a whole,” she groans, hiding her face with her hands as Quinn starts ups the engine. “I don’t even know why I let people know I associate with them.”

“Well, it could be worse,” Quinn offers, with a dry curl of her lips, but before Rachel can grimace at her wording choice – Shelby and Russell are both prime examples of that – the blonde is continuing, “You should see my mom, she practically asks to have you over every single night, it’s almost like she wants you as her daughter instead, the little traitor.”

Taking the joke as what it is, Rachel plays along, though her heart starts to speed up at the thought of having a proper dinner with Judy Fabray. “Honestly at this rate we should probably trade places.” She shakes her head, faux-exasperated. “Every night my dads are always ‘Quinn this’ and ‘Quinn that’, they don’t just _want_ you as their daughter, they practically think you theirs already!”

They laugh and bicker over who has it worse for a while, though Rachel knows that both of them are grateful to have parents that support them, until finally the looming shadow of Mckinley High greets them, making them pause, the sudden reality of having to face school as secret _lovers_ hitting them hard.

Reversing into a parking space, Quinn glances at her, unsure. “Well,” the blonde starts, for once seeming to be at as much of a loss as Rachel. “This is it.”

“It is,” Rachel breathes out, biting down on her lip in anxiousness.

She doesn’t even know why it all seems so foreign and scary. They’re literally just going to keep doing what they’ve always done, just with some extra things added in, so it doesn’t really add up as to why they both seem to be so hesitant.

But maybe it’s the fact that they’ll have to hide those extra things that’s making this so hard, she muses thoughtfully, still unwilling to let go of this moment just yet.

While it’s true that she was serious when she told Quinn a few weeks to process behind closed doors wouldn’t hurt, it still doesn’t take away that she’s just _terrified_ that Quinn’s going to pull away, even though the blonde has already proven otherwise multiple times.

It’s a strange sort of conflicting motion, being giddy that Quinn Fabray’s her girlfriend while also feeling loss at the fact that they’ll have to cover it up at school.

They’ve made it this far though, so Rachel reckons that this can’t possibly be as hard as the things before. When put in perspective with the numerous panic and anxiety attacks that they’ve had to nurse and witness before, this really should be a cake-walk, a nice change of pace even.

Even though that doesn’t really squash down her fears and insecurities, she’s still able to grasp some determination – because Rachel Berry is nothing but tenacious when it comes to getting what she wants – and it’s with that that she finds it in herself to break the silence. 

“It’s…It’s not going to be that much more different than before, I guess,” she tries to introduce the silver lining, before she cracks a small smile. “If our friends swearing up and down that we’ve practically been dating this entire time is to be believed.”

At this, Quinn seems to regain some of her composure, and a smirk forms itself onto her lips. “I mean, I’m still going to have to restrain myself from kissing you senseless against the lockers, so yeah, maybe not that different after all.”

Now biting on her lip for an entirely different reason, Rachel can’t help the way her lips morph into a bashful little grin, or how her heart seems to be beating out of her chest.

She knows that Quinn actually _likes_ her – that much at least, she can safely and confidently say – but hearing it, hearing it is always _different_.

Rachel thrives on people giving her attention. It’s something that has and always will be true, and while she might get flak for it occasionally, it’s one of the things that she can always readily admit.

She needs attention, and that’s not a bad thing really. No matter it be applause, or simple gestures like telling her that she’s beautiful that day, she thrives on assuring words and gestures, telling her that she’s doing the right thing.

Perhaps, that’s why she was so determined to befriend Quinn last year.

The girl was always so closed off, but there were just certain _somethings_ that Rachel noticed, and it drew her closer, the brief glimpses of the real Quinn underneath telling her that it would be worth it in the end.

And as Quinn gives her the Fabray signature smirk and eyebrow arch, playful hazel eyes gleaming, Rachel knows that it was really worth it and more.

Because Quinn Fabray’s her _girlfriend_ , and the person that Quinn’s trying to be now is just amazing and wonderful in all the ways that Rachel couldn’t have imagined.

“You know…” she says, a coy look on her face. “The car park’s empty.”

Quinn catches on immediately, and a scandalous look appears on her face. “Why, miss Berry, you can’t possibly be thinking what I think you’re implying!”

“What do you _think_ I’m implying?”

When Quinn leans in closer, Rachel unconsciously licks her lips, and the blonde’s eyes darken at the movement. “Why, I don’t know,” Quinn murmurs, breathy and low. “Maybe we should find out.”

Eyes unable to resist darting down to look at full pink lips, Rachel feels that familiar rush of arousal surge through her body, and she really just wants to close that little bit of distance and taste Quinn’s heavenly lips again, but then of course Quinn decides to do otherwise.

Because Quinn just gives her a peck – a fucking _peck_! – and moves back to her own seat quickly, opening the car door to get out of it.

And as Rachel just sits there, in disbelief and outrage, the blonde has the audacity to ask, “You coming or not Berry?”

It’s then that she realizes that she’ll have to watch Quinn in her Cheerio uniform practice her sky splits and run around the track with her absolutely gorgeous biceps flexing for a solid hour.

 _It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing_ , the Cheerios’ motto flashes in her brain, almost like it’s mocking her, and she barely manages to keep in her frustrated little whimper.

_Girls want sex as much as guys do dammit!_

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

As soon as Quinn walks out of the showers after Cheerio practice ends, Rachel wastes no time in grabbing the blonde, dragging her to behind the bleachers where no one can see.

“Uh, Rachel?” her girlfriend questions, though it’s clear by the undertone of her voice that she knows exactly what Rachel is planning. “What are you-”

For once in her life, Rachel finally gets to cut Quinn off, so really, the fact that it’s by grabbing her face and practically mauling her is just a bonus.

Letting out a small sound of surprise, Quinn’s lips are motionless for the first second, but then, there’s a low growl, and then Quinn is taking control of the kiss.

Rachel mentally rewords that last sentence of her thought right then and there. It’s a very, _very_ big bonus indeed.

All the pent-up frustration of watching Quinn on the field for an hour seems to come rushing back out, and Rachel channels all of that into their frantic kissing, prying Quinn’s lips open with her tongue.

It’s the first time they’ve really done this, but as rocket explosions and stars burst behind her, she finds that she doesn’t really care, simply content to explore every inch of Quinn that she’s allowed.

As their tongues engage in a battle of dominance, leading and chasing in a languid dance that is heading nowhere and everywhere at the same time, her hands trail paths on polyester, and though she takes care to keep them to respectful places, it’s like she can’t get enough.

Her past boyfriends were all about sloppily making out and grinding.

But with Quinn, like everything else, it’s different. It’s about exploring and discovering, and there’s just this all-consuming need in Rachel that hungers to familiarize itself with every ridge and every curve that makes up Quinn’s body.

She thinks that it’s only in this moment, when they’re making out under the bleachers that she really understands John Mayer’s _Your Body Is A Wonderland_ , but then Quinn is just doing this thing with her tongue and teeth and hands and just _everything_ , and well, who has time to think when being kissed by Quinn Fabray like _that_?

“We’re- We’re going to be late to class.” Quinn pants out between unrelenting kisses, but it seems like the blonde has no inclinations to stop either, her hands on Rachel’s neck and back still unwilling to move from their (in Rachel’s opinion, very rightful) place.

Skin on fire and her entire body absolutely _buzzing_ , Rachel pulls back for only a split second, grunting out, “Your HBIC glare will scare them into submission.”

 _And now I’m hoping that your HBIC glare will eyefuck_ me _into submission_.

She feels Quinn’s lips morph into a smirk against her own, before pressing down against her once more. “My my, someone’s picking up some bad habits, it seems like.”

Rachel throws her a throwaway smile. “And now I’m going to pick up a few more.”

In the distance, they hear the school bell ring out, and when Quinn reluctantly pulls away, Rachel knows that their time is up, making her pout.

It seems to work in her favor though, because Quinn’s eyes hone in on her swollen lips immediately, and then she’s being kissed senseless again.

Rachel loves the way they’re pressed up against each other, hip to hip and breast to breast with seemingly no regard of personal space, and she especially loves how _tactile_ Quinn just is with her, when emotionally she’s so closed off in comparison.

It just makes her kiss back harder, because the person Quinn is choosing to be vulnerable and show all her flaws with is her and _her_ alone, and it ignites the possessive streak in her as she tugs harder on Quinn’s form. _Mine_.

It really should be concerning, how they’ve been kissing for at least half an hour now with no signs of stopping any time soon, but all Rachel feels is a burning need for _more_ , to begin and end in Quinn, and she just allows herself to drown deeper in her passion.

When she starts to gently suck on Quinn’s tongue in her mouth, she feels the blonde’s demeanor change immediately, as an almost primal growl rumbles out of Quinn’s chest, and she almost stumbles backwards as her girlfriend becomes even more aggressive in their kissing, surging forward with a grunt.

It’s just another one of those things that she learns make Quinn tick, and she _lives_ for these moments.

…And well, she also lusts for these moments when she feels like Quinn is going to throw her down and have her wicked dirty way with her any second.

But alas, everything needs to come to an end, and finally, one of them finds the strength to pull away, with only heavy breathing replacing the previous grunts and groans fueling the air.

“Fuck,” Quinn husks, and really, someone cursing shouldn’t be that much of a turn-on, but it _is_ , and Rachel has to suffer through another pang between her legs, adding to the already aching burn just _begging_ for friction. “You can’t- You can’t do that again while we’re at school, Rae.”

Biting down on her lip – and holy shit her swollen lips burn so _good_ – Rachel asks, eyes dark, “Why not?”

Quinn’s enflamed golden eyes narrow at her, almost accusing in its intensity. “You _know_ why, Rachel.”

“So maybe I liked doing it, and I want to do it again.” She shrugs in response, because she _does_. Quinn’s animalistic sound that had erupted when she had- had sucked on her _tongue_ is now forever imprinted on her mind, and she so very desperately wants to hear that sound again.

“And _I_ want to keep from being suspended from school grounds for public indecency, but we can’t always have what we want, can we?” Quinn grumbles instead, though Rachel pays that little mind, far too entranced with Quinn’s lips moving enticingly.

“Rachel? Rae, are you even listening? Rachel, we have to get to class!”

“Huh? Oh- Oh, right!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have nothing else to say other than TAYLOR SWIFT’S LOVER ALBUM IS A FABERRY ALBUM AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE MY MIND. (and uh, also this entire chapter was basically written today and it’s 2am and I didn’t want to give you guys a half-assed ending so I know this is shorter/less jam-packed than usual but have mercy plz k thanks bye love yall, who knows maybe I’ll even release a chapter early bc I feel bad about this one but hey maybe not lalala)


	17. VI. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where I post late and the plot is all over the place bc of high school or something idk

Finally making it to Spanish class, Mr. Schue lets them go easily enough, and they duck into the seats Kurt, Santana and Brittany had saved them.

At three knowing looks, they barely manage to keep their blushes off their faces, and Rachel huddles closer to Quinn, scooting closer along the three-seater bench.

“You two really need to get more inconspicuous,” Santana snickers. “Your just-been-fucked looks aren’t fooling anyone.”

Both of them flush pink immediately, and Kurt squeals, “Oh both of you are so excruciatingly lovey-dovey!”

Quinn tenses a little, and Rachel’s eyes quickly move to see if anyone’s paying attention to them. “Are we- Are we really that obvious?” she asks, more than a bit worried.

At this, Kurt’s eyes soften with understanding. “No one will know unless they really care to look.”

“More like they won’t think anything’s changed because you’ve been parading around practically dating anyway,” Santana snorts, and when Brittany elbows her, she rolls her eyes. “Fine…We’ll be your meat-shields in the halls or whatever if you need it.”

Brittany smiles at her girlfriend, before turning to them. “It’s gonna be awesome,” she nods knowingly. “Embrace your inner unicorns, and everything will be just fine, you’ll see.”

“Thank you,” Quinn sighs out, and Rachel squeezes her hand, offering what comfort she can. “You’re all amazing friends.”

“The rainbow squad needs to stick together,” Kurt shrugs, a small upward tilt to his lips.

Santana grimaces, “Bitch, _please_ , we aren’t gonna be named something as lame as the rainbow squad.”

“Mm,” Brittany agrees. “Needs more unicorns…or ducks, I’m not picky.”

“How about ‘The talented Rachel Berry and her less talented Cupids’? Has a very nice ring to it,” Rachel suggests, only to be met with two death glares, and she shrinks back, a frown on her face. “Well you could’ve just _said_ so…”

At her pout, Quinn laughs, reaching out an arm to tuck her into the crook of her shoulder as Kurt and Santana continue to bicker. “Whatever we are, I’m just glad that I have you with me Rae.”

“When did your romantic poetry turn into pure sap?” Rachel teases with a smile, snuggling more into Quinn’s form.

“The second you allowed me to taste the sweetness of your lips,” Quinn grins back, beaming and warm. “It’s a drug that makes me lose all my senses, and I will forever seek to chase that alluring high once more, the thrill all-consuming in every way possible.”

“Show off,” she mumbles, biting her lip. “And would it be suspicious if we both had to use the toilet facilities at the same time?”

“Probably.” Quinn tilts her head in response. “But damn if it’s not tempting.”

“We should’ve just skipped school today,” Rachel sulks. “Or maybe for another month.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the blonde says, a light laugh to her voice. “Sleepovers every day. But then again, you’re over at my place so much it’s not that different. I’m surprised you haven’t run into Mom more, actually.”

“Yeah…” Rachel trails off, trying to mask her sheepish demeanor. “Really surprising indeed.”

Quinn, of course, catches it, and she raises a brow. “What did you do?” she asks cautiously.

“…What makes you think I did anything?” Rachel hedges.

“ _Rachel_.”

“Okay, fine,” she pouts, admitting, “I’ve been…taking note of when Judy is often at your place of residence.”

“You’re avoiding her,” Quinn translates dryly, and Rachel flushes.

“Now, I wouldn’t phrase it quite like _that_ ,” she says, and when an unimpressed look is aimed at her, she gives in, whining, “It’s not _my_ fault that I would prefer to delay the ‘meet-the-parent’ interrogation dinner until I feel with confidence that I will be able to, to put into simple terms, ‘charm your mother’s pants off’.”

“Rae, sweetie, she loves you,” Quinn chuckles. “And I’ve already met _your_ parents.”

“ _You_ were the one who wanted to do it!” Rachel yelps.

Quinn’s lips quirk up, and Rachel just _knows_ that she’s being mocked. “Those are really rather pointless details, don’t you think?”

Rachel’s mouth opens in indignation, and Quinn smiles a shit-eating grin at her. “Plus, now that she knows that you asked me to be your girlfriend, she’s like a literal bloodhound, always asking about you.”

She’s about to protest – ignoring the way her chest still flutters at the reminder that Quinn is her girlfriend – but then Kurt is cutting in, ceasing his debate with Santana. “Hold on,” he butts into the conversation, narrowing his eyes. “Rachel Berry, Quinn’s now your girlfriend, and you didn’t think to _tell me_? Oh, the nerve of you lot! After all I’ve-”

“Oh shut up Hummel, save your ruffled feathers for later, but you mean to say that my girl Q didn’t give me the sweet juicy deets? Q-ball I thought we were friends!”

“Keep your voices down dammit,” Quinn hisses, eyes flickering around to see if anyone had heard – none seemed to have, fortunately. “And we didn’t tell you guys yet because it was- it was _special_ , so sue us if we wanted to have a bit to ourselves.”

They both have the decency to look slightly ashamed, and Brittany questions, “Oh you two didn’t know already? I’ve known since Quinn showed up to Cheerio practice today. She was _glowing_.”

“Of course you did,” Kurt mutters irritably, and Santana sends him a warning glare, making him roll his eyes. “Oh simmer down woman, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Santana mirrors tauntingly, and then they’re both fighting again, thankfully dropping the ‘girlfriend’ line of questioning for now.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook Rachel,” Kurt calls just as she thinks that, and Rachel sighs.

But as she leans closer into Quinn, her _girlfriend_ , she finds that she doesn’t care all that much anyway.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

As she feels her back collide with the hard wall – Quinn _definitely_ takes way too much pleasure in pinning her down – she barely stifles a moan, matching her girlfriend’s demanding kisses with her own.

It’s not even lunch yet, but in Rachel’s very correct opinion, it’s been _way_ too long since they had last locked lips, with her – _Rachel Berry_ – not even being able to concentrate in class with Quinn’s alluring lips mocking her every step of the way.

She’s probably addicted to Quinn in a degree that’s bordering on unhealthy, but pft, who could get a taste of Quinn’s lips and _not_ be?

But then again, she’s going to make damn sure that the only person who’s ever going to taste Quinn’s lips again be her and her alone, so she’s never going to know, and she’s happy to keep it that way.

It’s with that thought that she sucks on Quinn’s tongue harder, knowing what a surefire way that is to rile the blonde up, and sure enough, the guttural sound that erupts from Quinn’s chest sends a straight pang of want to Rachel’s core, thumping between her legs dangerously.

Both of them had taken care to keep their sounds to a minimal, still conscious of how new this all is, but Rachel’s always been verbal in every aspect of her life, so she can’t hold in a little whimper as Quinn’s fingers thrum against her exposed collarbone, almost as if she was tapping out a rhythm only known to her.

If that’s the case, then Rachel’s happy to be Quinn’s song forever.

Before she knows it, her hand has unconsciously moved to beneath Quinn’s Cheerio top, and Rachel can’t help but flick a thumb against smooth, hard abs, relishing how they flex beneath her small ministrations.

During the massage she had given Quinn a few weeks back, she wasn’t able to properly feel the blonde’s abs as she was on her stomach the entire time, and now that she can, she’s entranced by how they feel, rippling in a fascinating way that has Rachel spellbound.

She doesn’t even realize that she’s running her entire hand against them, tight against Quinn’s skin from the constricting polyester of the cheerleader’s top until Quinn pushes her hand away gently, eyes dark and gleaming.

Drawing back for a moment and in that husky tone that always gets Rachel going, she warns, “ _Rachel_.”

“Quinn,” she retorts in a whine, already diving back in for another kiss.

Quinn, of course, bends to her will all too easily, and Rachel keeps her hands to blonde hair this time, putting down the urge to feel Quinn’s intoxicating abs in favor of running her hands through silky tresses instead.

Her lips burn with a fervor as she hungrily runs her tongue over Quinn’s, and the taste and smell of mangoes and vanilla follows her everywhere, luring her in back for more every time she pulls away slightly to catch her breath.

Ha, who needs air when they have Quinn Fabray instead anyway? Certainly not her.

Her burning lungs probably have something to say to that, but her entire mind is clouded by the force that is Quinn, with everything else faded and jumbled in the background, and she kisses back harder, the way Quinn’s tongue is sliding over hers magical in every sense of the word.

“What are you _doing_ to me?” Quinn questions, low and rough, and Rachel groans at the visual of swollen pink lips.

“What are you doing to _me_?” she counters as she feels Quinn begin to pepper small little kisses at the base of her jawline, light and barely just there and so, _so_ teasingly.

“That- That feels good,” she mumbles, lost in how Quinn is trailing up her jaw and to her ear, moving slowly in a way that’s both torturous and heavenly as the same time.

But oh, what a heavenly way to die it would be.

Quinn is obviously pleased, and she hums, “Yeah?”

The seductive tone is so arousing that it’s practically unfair, and Rachel gasps as Quinn latches onto the patch of skin right behind her ear, sucking on it. “Oh, that’s- That feels _really_ good.”

There’s a small voice of reason in her mind telling her to remind Quinn not to leave any marks, but then a tongue is flickering lazily over her skin, and she loses all form of comprehension, mouth parting in a silent o as Quinn nips softly at her skin.

Well…she’s just found her weakness.

She’s pretty sure that they’re moving way too fast, but all her nerves are telling her otherwise, pleasure radiating from and to every inch of her body, and then-

The fucking bell rings.

_No!_ she instantly thinks, _We’re moving way too slow. Waaaaaay too slow. Now god, take back the fucking bell dammit!_

_Pretty sure that’s not how it works hon._

_Oh fuck the bell, we can make out till school ends for all I care!_

“Rae, we gotta get to class.”

_No we don’t!_

_God, when_ _did_ I _become the voice of reason? …But then again, I have no qualms about making out with Quinn till sundown. Do carry on then._

“ _Quinn_ ,” Rachel pouts, jutting her lip forward, and Quinn closes her eyes, backing away.

“Nope, nuh uh.” She shakes her head. “I’m not falling for that again.”

Sensing an opportunity – _ah ha!_ the little chibi representation of her shakes her little fist in triumph – Rachel edges closer, ghosting her lips against Quinn’s neck. “Please Quinn?”

At how innocent she sounds and how Quinn’s throat works to swallow tightly, she gives herself a little pat on the back, and she plants a featherlight kiss on alabaster skin, worshipping the column of skin with an almost reverence.

“You’re…You’re a little minx, you know that?” Quinn finally says, inching open her eyes, and Rachel is met with burning bright golden embers, dark and dangerous.

The sharp ache between her legs just throbs harder, and she has to clench her thighs together to relieve the tension, if only for a little bit. “So,” she husks, a small little smile playing on the edge of her lips at the power that runs through her veins. “What are you doing to do with me?”

Quinn just looks at her, hazel eyes flaring, and then she’s being pulled into a deep kiss, and there is nothing else.

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

After what seems like an eternity, lunch period finally rolls around, and Rachel walks out of her class to be met with Quinn, already waiting for her with lunch for both of them in hand.

When she spots the clouded look in Quinn eyes, especially when Quinn doesn’t lead with ‘My lady’ as they link arms, that’s what tips Rachel off.

Focusing more on the blonde’s face, it’s clear that she’s deep in thought, and the way her brow is knit tight together doesn’t bode well, making Rachel bite her lip in worry.

“You okay?” she inquires, pretty sure what Quinn is thinking about.

The Cheerio spares a quick glance at her, before continuing to walk them down the hallway. “Yeah,” she dismisses. “I’m fine.”

It’s rather apparent to Rachel that she’s not, but she doesn’t push, knowing that it might draw attention and that’s the last thing both of them need right now.

As they walk towards the cafeteria, Rachel muses it’s not that different from before, but this time, she can tell that they’re both on high alert as they pass by students, wondering if anyone could tell that something’s changed.

Thankfully, the entire student body seems to have gotten used to their affectionate tendencies by now, and no one bats an eye when Rachel clings onto Quinn’s arm or when Quinn glares at a random jock looking like he wants to bring up some beef, even though both of them are rather tense, movements stilted.

Still, when they enter the cafeteria, it feels like _everyone_ is looking at them even though they aren’t, and Rachel feels Quinn go even more rigid next to her, face coiled in that blank way of hers that means she’s about to lash out at any second now.

When Rachel squeezes the hand in hers and gets no response, she nudges the blonde gently, careful not to provoke her as she slowly guides them out of the supposed spotlight and to a corner of the cafeteria that no one pays much attention to.

“Hey, hey,” she says, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “Focus on me, kay? It’s just you and I Quinn, just focus on me, and my hand in yours.”

“ _Fuck_ , Rae, I can’t-” Quinn whispers, and Rachel knows that she’s trying hard to seem unfazed, but it’s in the way that Quinn’s voice cracks that proves otherwise, making Rachel’s heart ache for the blonde.

Something doesn’t add up, as Quinn had seemed perfectly fine earlier, if only just a bit on edge, so Rachel doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly so torn up about it now, and she furrows her brow in confusion.

But still, she knows that that’s not what Quinn needs right now, so she tries her best to pull the blonde’s attention onto her instead, hoping that her thumb rubbing circles on the back of Quinn’s hand is good enough for now, not much else she can do under the scrutiny of the student body.

“Auditorium?” she asks softly.

“Auditorium,” Quinn breathes out, and then Rachel is ushering them away from the crowds and judging eyes.

Quinn stays tense the entire way through, even when they get to the auditorium where they know that no one will disturb them, and for once, Rachel is at a loss to say, not sure what she can do about the situation.

A small part of her feels guilty, because it’s _their_ relationship that’s causing Quinn to panic so much, and even though she knows that it’s a silly thought, she can’t help but think it.

She’s texting a message to explain the situation to Santana when Quinn finally speaks, face full of anguish. “ _God_ , I’m sorry Rach,” she sounds out, voice choked up. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“You’re _my_ mess,” Rachel immediately responds, bound by a need to make sure Quinn knows that. “You have my back, and I’ll have yours.”

“You- You don’t get it,” Quinn shakes her head, her conflicting emotions apparent. “I’m supposed to be strong for you, because you deserve so much more than that, but I can’t even do something as simple as keeping my fucking calm, and I can’t-”

“Quinn, _breathe_ ,” Rachel moves to assure the blonde quickly, though she keeps her distance, easily recognizing the signs of an incoming meltdown by now. “Breathe for me baby, can you do that?”

There’s a moment of Quinn closing her eyes, and Rachel’s vaguely worried for a second, but then Quinn is exhaling a long breath, her muscles finally relaxing. “I can’t seem to do much of fucking anything at the moment, but I’ll try I guess.” The Cheerio cracks a tired smile, and Rachel breathes a sigh of relief.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know,” she says, deeming it safe to move closer to the blonde. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Quinn doesn’t reply, eyes downcast, and Rachel purses her lips. “Someone said something,” she deduces finally, swallowing, and when Quinn tenses up, just that slightest bit, Rachel narrows her eyes, a surge of protectiveness blossoming in her chest.

“What happened?” she asks, wondering who she had to send Santana after. Whoever put that look on Quinn’s face would pay for it; she’d make sure of it.

When she spots Quinn’s fingers twitching, awfully close to her ribs, Rachel bites down on her inner lip, hating how helpless she feels. “Quinn, _please_ ,” she begs.

There’s a long beat, and then Quinn is sighing out in defeat. “Go parade with your dyky little bitch, Fabgay,” she says, as if she’s repeating someone’s words.

Rachel gets the implications fast as lightning, and her eyes darken harshly, an angry bile building up in her throat that she hasn’t felt in a long while. “Who?”

Quinn looks away, and Rachel feels her hands clench harder. She repeats the word again, knowing that she can’t really say much more without bursting into a rant, and then, in a soft tone barely reaching Rachel’s ears, “Karofsky.”

Rachel inhales a sharp breath to reign in her anger, and Quinn chuckles mirthlessly. “I shouldn’t be this torn up over this, I really shouldn’t. He says stuff like that all the time, but- but today’s our first day at school as- as a _couple_ , and I couldn’t- I just- I-”

“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Rachel mumbles darkly under her breath, already plotting all the ways she and Santana can make his life even more miserable than it already is, and she’s completely unprepared for Quinn laughing lightly, a small smile lighting up her otherwise tired features.

“What?” she pouts, and Quinn lets loose a little giggle, genuine and shining through Quinn’s drained emotions.

“I’m sorry, I just- You’re just so _cute_ when you swear,” the blonde stifles a smile, and even though Rachel huffs in indignance at the response, her chest feels lighter at the sight of Quinn happier again, making _Rachel_ happy too.

“Well I’m never trying to defend your honor ever again,” she grumbles, folding her arms together.

“Rachel Berry, my hero,” Quinn chuckles dryly, and then Rachel is willingly being pulled down to the chair next to the one that the blonde is sitting in, arm automatically moving to wrap around Quinn’s waist with a content sigh.

Grabbing the vegan sandwich Quinn had prepared for her like she does every Monday, she absently notes, “We’re going to be late for Glee.”

“Eh, Mr. Schue won’t care much,” Quinn shrugs in reply, nuzzling closer towards Rachel’s neck in a way that’s reversed from their usual positions, and it’s that reminder of what Karofsky’s actions had resulted in that makes the fury in Rachel’s veins burn hot once more.

But before she can scheme any further on inconspicuously orchestrating Karofsky’s unlucky and unfortunate demise, Quinn is distracting her with a soft, “Hold me?”

Rachel swallows, and she vows, “Always.”

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

By the time they deem it appropriate to head to Glee, Quinn’s gotten much lighter, and they walk into the choir rooms with arms linked assuredly.

“Ah, Quinn, Rachel, finally!” Mr. Schue greets in that chipper way of his. “I was worried, especially about you Rachel, you’re usually the first person in the choir room you know.”

“Sorry about that Mr. Schue,” Quinn apologizes smoothly, and at the mischievous tone Rachel hears practically bleeding out of the blonde’s voice, she bites her lip, wondering what she’s up to. “I had some…womanly problems, and Rachel, being the nice person she is, helped me. She was very nice in _resolving_ them.”

 

Rachel feels her cheeks heat up – because they totally did make out for a while after cuddling in the auditorium – and she keeps her eyes trained away from Santana’s gaze, knowing what she’ll find there.

“Oh, that’s fine, take a seat,” Mr. Schue accepts without another word, and he claps his hands together. “I know that I’ve said this a dozen times since you two have become close, I really am happy that you two have worked out your differences. See guys, being friends is what Glee is all about!”

“Uh…sure,” Quinn’s dry reply rings through, and Rachel giggles, leading them to their seats.

With her amazing hearing skills she hears Tina whisper “Still so weird” to Mike, but she ignores it in favor of huddling closer to Quinn, though not _too_ close, careful to account for Quinn’s caution today.

“So,” Kurt smirks haughtily, leaning in above from the upper row. “You two were making out, weren’t you?”

With the close proximity of all the Gleeks, Rachel quickly moves to shush the boy, and a look of understanding flashes in his eyes. “You’re not planning on telling them?”

“Later, we will,” Rachel promises. “But now, both of us- both of us just need some time to…adjust.”

“You don’t have to make it sound that pretty Rae,” Quinn sighs, biting her lip. “I know it’s mostly me that’s keeping us from- from _you know_.”

Rachel’s about to protest, but a look from Quinn quiets her down. “Just know that I’m here for you no matter what, okay?” she says instead.

“We have your back Quinn,” Kurt agrees, before a wistful look crosses his face. “Now, if only I could have your skin complexion too.”

“Stop being creepy Hummel,” Quinn rolls her eyes, though it’s clear she’s thankful for the topic change.

Kurt isn’t deterred. “Then give me your nightly skincare routine,” he argues, a bit of a whine to his tone. “There’s not a chance anyone can look as flawless as you without one.”

Quinn arches a brow. “Care to bet?”

Narrowing his eyes, Kurt huffs. “Fine, let’s all go to the mall later then, your fellow red knights have agreed too.”

“Santana and Brittany?” Quinn asks, mildly impressed. “Wait, let me rephrase that. Santana. How’d you get her to agree to that?”

“I have my ways,” Kurt nods mysteriously, and Quinn deadpans.

“You lured her with the prospect of having more changing stall sex with Brittany and told B that there were duck toys there, didn’t you?”

“…No. Maybe.”

Quinn shoots him a dry look, and Kurt, demeanor that of a bird with ruffled feathers, turns up his nose. “…Yes.”

Rachel’s thoroughly enjoying just staying in the background – for once in her life – and observing her girlfriend (in a totally not stalkerish way), but then, she feels a familiar gaze aimed at her, and her skin prickles, knowing the only possible person it could be.

Casting a quick glance sideways, her suspicions are confirmed. Finn’s at it again, staring at her like he’s been prone to do for these past couple days where Quinn’s let up a bit, looking at them with a scrutinizing gaze that seems almost accusing.

Rachel sighs, wondering if the boy would ever learn to take a hint.

He hasn’t tried to talk to her ever since that first day of school thanks to the almost constant presence of Quinn around her, but he’s seemed to have gotten braver now, staring brazenly at her constantly during Glee.

Quinn obviously notices her discomfort, stopping her conversation with Kurt, and when she tracks her gaze to one Finn Hudson, the blonde growls, tightening her hold around Rachel’s waist and pulling them closer together.

From the corner of her eye, Rachel sees Finn’s eyes narrow, the slow cogs in his head turning, but finally, he seems to understand that he won’t be winning this battle ( _or any future ones, at that,_ Bi-rry mutters in the back of her head), and he turns away with a grunt, clearly unhappy about it.

Next to her, Quinn lets out a pleased little hum, and Rachel can’t resist her blush at the blonde’s possessiveness. It makes her feel cherished, _wanted_ , and if Quinn being possessive turns her on like crazy, well then, that’s just a major plus.

Glee passes by quickly enough, and after Mr. Schue dismisses them, Rachel tells Quinn to wait for her while she talks to Santana.

Quinn looks at her with suspicious eyes in response. “What are you up to this time?” she asks warily. “Should I be scared?”

“Not _you_ ,” Rachel mutters underneath her breath, but evidently that was a bad idea, tipping Quinn off.

“You’re sending her after Karofsky, aren’t you?”

Rachel doesn’t even bother to seem contrite. “He deserves it.”

Quinn, for her part, doesn’t seem to be angry, with the edge of her lips curled up just so in a way that tells Rachel that she’s amused instead. “What happened to Rachel ‘I love everybody and everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves’ Berry?”

“I suppose you’re my exception then,” she shrugs, because it’s true. She won’t let what Karofsky said and avertedly caused go unpunished, that’s for sure, and even she could admit that sometimes people really couldn’t change, or rather, _want_ to.

“Wow, special treatment from Rachel Berry? I’m honored,” Quinn drawls, thumb drawing slow lazy circles on the brunette’s waist, and Rachel’s breath can’t help but hitch as Quinn draws closer, just enough so that it steps right on the edge of friendliness and intimacy. “And I really, _really_ , want to kiss you right now, just so you know.”

“We could go sneak elsewhere right now,” Rachel suggests overeagerly, mind clouded with the haze that Quinn brings with her everywhere. But still, she manages to keep _some_ semblance of brain power, remembering, “…Just, right after I instruct Santana on how to properly make him pay first.”

“Go be the little vengeful serial killer you’ve always dreamed to be Berry,” Quinn chuckles, gently pushing and snapping Rachel out of her reverie.

“Yeah,” she mumbles as she half-mindedly walks towards Santana. “Yeah, I’ll- I’ll do just that.”

When she reaches Santana, the smirk she’s met with it totally mocking. “Jesus, what did Quinn do to you?”

“What _hasn’t_ she done?”

She doesn’t realize that she’s said the words out loud until it’s too late, and Santana is snorting, “Kinky.”

Rachel blushes a deep red instantly. “Look,” she starts though, staving her embarrassment off for now. “I’m here to talk to you about what happened with Quinn today at lunch.”

Santana straightens up at that, and she narrows her eyes. “Who do I need to beat up and why?”

“Karofsky said some…rather impertinent words to that that I’m sure you can imagine,” Rachel sighs, knowing that Santana’s faced her fair share of them as well. “It managed to get to Quinn today, and well-”

“I’ll take care of it,” the Latina nods, eyes now fueled with fire.

“I’d tell you to go easy on him, but…” Rachel simply shrugs, and Santana laughs.

“Damn Berry, didn’t know you had it in you,” she appraises. “But yeah, I’ll make sure I’ll get him good. In the meantime, you probably should go take care of Ken over there though.”

It takes a second for it to click into place, and then Rachel is huffing in outrage and spinning on her heal with a vehemence, marching over to where Sam is chatting Quinn up.

The boy’s tried nothing so far on Quinn – her _girlfriend_ – that she knows of, but damn if Rachel’s not going to continue to make sure he doesn’t ever.

He might seem nice enough, but Quinn is _hers_ now, and Sam Evans will _not_ jeopardize that!

“Why, hello there Sam,” she greets with an (as fake as Nicki Minaj’s ass) smile, latching onto Quinn’s arm. “Quinn, you ready to go?”

Quinn obviously knows what’s going on, and Rachel can tell that she’s stifling a smile. “Mm, of course, I was just finishing up with Sam here.”

At the mention of his name, he perks up ( _like a fucking excited dog_ , Rachel grumbles), adorning a dorky smile, laughing. “Yup…that’s me.”

Rachel’s eyes narrow, and she barely manages to keep the sneer off of her face. _How dare he try to outdork me!_ she internally seethes, _No one outdorks me dammit!_

But still, she graciously refrains from violently challenging the obviously delusional boy to a sing-off of dominance – that is so one-sided Rachel is already practicing her victory song – and instead continues to smile beautifully, blinding her audience and bringing them to her feet.

And if the ways that she imagines Sam and Quinn to their feet completely different – the latter certainly includes less ‘dead on the floor’ and more ‘worshipping thighs with kisses’ – then so be it.

Alas though, she must play nice for now. Rachel has prepared for many roles, but even she can admit that this one is going to be a challenging one.

“Hm, that’s nice,” she grins, not shark-like and predatory at all. “What are you doing with Quinn, _Sam_?”

…Well, at least she didn’t sound _that_ venomous. She’ll take her wins where she can get them.

At her tone, Sam baulks, looking slightly afraid of Rachel, and she feels the little chibi in her head laugh in triumph. _You have been thwarted by the talented and almighty Rachel Berry, muahahahaha!_

Sam, of course, has to go interrupt her amazingly crafted victory speech with opening his fucking trouty-mouth. “Um, I was just asking Quinn if she wanted to do a duet in Glee.”

From next to Rachel, an obviously trying-hard-not-to-laugh Quinn is nodding along semi-seriously. “Uh huh, he was.”

“And uh, I know you’re her best friend or something, so like, while you’re here, I’d like to ask for your…blessing?” Sam asks, awkward in a way that is too fucking endearing for his own good. “I mean, I’m not, like, asking for anything important – not that this duet isn’t important to me, I’d really love to-”

“That’s enough,” Rachel almost growls out, “Quinn’s unavailable for any duets that aren’t with me, so rather unfortunately, you’ll have to find _another_ duet partner.”

At the hurt puppy expression that appears on Sam’s face as a result, she almost feels bad, knowing that he’s probably one of the only decent guys in Glee, but Quinn lets out a slow laugh, and then she’s reminded of staking her claim.

Sorry Evans, but Quinn’s _hers_.

“Maybe next time Sam,” Quinn offers, eyes gleaming. “But you know. Whatever Rachel says goes, or she’ll get grumpy.”

Sam instantly nods eagerly, as if he’s already happy enough with Quinn’s response – honestly and grudgingly, Rachel can’t blame him, she was exactly like him at first with Quinn, sometimes still is – and he cracks another smile. “Well, it was- it was really nice talking to you, at least.”

With that, he waddles off, and Rachel grumbles, “Why does he have to be a nice guy? _Why_? At least with Finn he was a dick, but nooooo, curse you god!”

“Rachel, you know I only like you right?” Quinn breaks into her thoughts with an amused but still tender smile. “And I’m…kind of really gay, so.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I just- What if- What if next time, it’s a girl instead, and-”

“I’ll still not be interested in her, because she’s not Rachel Berry,” Quinn cuts her off, reiterating, “ _You’re_ all I and ever will want Rae.”

At that, Rachel slowly nods, and she says softly, “You’re all I want too.”

“Good,” Quinn affirms, and she grins as she tugs Rachel along gently. “Now come on, let’s go sneak off somewhere.”

Rachel bites her lip to keep her smirk in place. “Why, what are you planning Miss Fabray?”

“What do you _think_ I’m planning?” Quinn husks, leaning in closer now that the entire choir room is cleared out, and Rachel’s body rolls with pleasure, anticipating running through her veins.

“I’d rather you show me,” she breathes out, voice low, and then their lips are meeting in a perfect crescendo.

_How did I get so lucky?_

 

X-X-X-X-X

 

Really, she _still_ can’t get over it by the time school lets out, even when they’re all heading to the mall to grab some food, and _something_ must show on her face as they walk, because Quinn’s smiling at her with a soft look.

“Something you’re thinking about?” she asks, a musical tilt to her voice.

“There are a lot of things that I’m thinking about, actually,” Rachel grins. “…Though, none are as encaptivating as you.”

“Well that’s because you make me better,” Quinn shrugs. “You make me a better person just by being around me, and you make me _want_ to be a better person _for_ you.”

Rachel shakes her head, absently rubbing little patterns with her thumb onto the back of Quinn’s hand. “You do that all on your own Quinn,” she says as she leans her head onto the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m just lucky enough to be here and give you a little push.”

Casting a glance upwards, she sees Quinn send a beaming smile at her, full of adoration and fondness, and her lips stretch into her own bashful smile, just simply happy and content in this quiet moment of peace as they walk along.

“Awww, look at how absolutely cute they are!” Kurt gushes from behind them.

“Oi, Hummel, hush, you’re ruining the show!”

“…Ohhh, am I ruining the moment?”

“Hey San, can you buy me one of those stuffed duckies over there?”

“…Of course, Brits.”

“Ha, admit it, you’re whipped Satan!”

“Well at least I _have_ someone to be whipped for!”

“Ouch, low blow woman! You know how sad this is for me, being surrounded by a bunch of- well by one nauseatingly adorable couple and one kind-of cute couple, I’m all alo-”

“Hummel, you did _not_ just put Faberry over Brittana!”

“Oh my god, I yield, I yield, Santana, this is _designer_!”

“Yeah well, I’m gonna redesign your _face_!”

“Stop the violence!”

And as their friends bicker behind them, Rachel can’t help exchange another smile with Quinn, thinking that it really wouldn’t get any much better than this.

…Because, of course, with all the whirlwind romance and windswept dates that had been going on amidst the drama of teenage life, they had kind of forgotten about the slight problem that presented itself within one Finn Hudson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like two days late, I'm sorry. Cue the excuses: School is back up, and sleep is dead, and I’m pretty sure that either I’m going to kill this fic or this fic is going to kill me, so just bear with me please.


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